Keyless Entry
by Cadence
Summary: What if Rory and Jess had sex in "Keg! Max!"? What if that didn't actually solve any problems?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Keyless Entry**  
Characters/Pairings:** Rory/Jess**  
Rating:** R**  
Word Count:** approx 5400 for this chapter**  
Warnings:** teen sex; WIP**  
Acknowledgment:** Thanks/blame to finnigan_geist for beta'ing, hand holding, and encouraging the damnable idea in the first place.**  
Summary:** What if Rory and Jess had sex in "Keg! Max!"? What if that didn't actually solve any problems?

* * *

Rory lay back under Jess's kisses, scooting up the bed as she went. She could feel his weight settle on top of her and her hands went to cup his jaw; his hands went to her belt.

She could hear the jingle of her key – the one her mother had affixed to her belt, telling her she couldn't lose it that way – as Jess's fingers hooked into the leather. Rory shivered, pushing at Jess's shoulders.

"Jess, wait."

Kisses came hot and needy against her neck. Jess pressed his face to her shoulder, backing away slightly to just breathe. His hands were still at her belt, toying with the distance between it and her shirt's hem. A shudder against her that Rory put her hands out to calm, slipping her hands down Jess's back, and then his fingers traveled upwards, under her shirt.

Rory sighed, shifting against him, glad to be back in familiar territory.

"I missed you down there," Rory whispered against his lips. She could almost make out his eyes.

Jess didn't reply, shaking his head and kissing her again, hard. She arched underneath him. He pressed her back down, hips sliding against hers – enough for her to feel how hard he was. His hand was on her breast, under her shirt, thumb circling around her nipple. Rory closed her eyes against the sensation, panting out harshly.

"I want you," Jess mumbled, pushing his forehead against hers. She could feel him, the tension in his back as he restrained himself, the sweat on brow transferred to hers. He was so tense. So _miserable_.

_Here?_ a part of her wanted to shout. _Now?_

Hand drifting between her thighs, Jess pressed up and in against the seam of her jeans. Rory moaned, caught off guard by the breathy sound coming from her own throat.

"Jess," she said again, unsure of her own meaning.

Jess kissed her, hands making short work of her belt before moving to remove her shirt. Her hands, her hands needed to be doing something. He couldn't do all the work. That wasn't fair. She applied them to his shirt, stripping it off quickly so he could press her bare chest against hiss.

Rory shivered at the warm contact, the strangeness. Jess cupped his hands around her backside, lifting her up just enough for her to tug her jeans down. Jess followed the length of her legs, moving down the bed to pull them entirely off.

Breathing hard, left only in her thin cotton briefs and bra, Rory opened her eyes in the dimness. She stared down her body, looking at Jess. His solemn expression.

She grimaced, throwing her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. That _wasn't_ what he was supposed to look like. Not right now.

Rory heard a rustle of clothing, and presumed he was naked. She heard a rip of foil. _At least he's safe_, she thought, half-hysterical.

His weight did not settle on her – next to her, warmth of his arm against the twitchy, sudden coldness of her own. She traced careful fingers on his shoulder, pausing to steady herself before sliding her hand down the length of his arm. Taking his hand in hers, squeezing just a moment and then placing it across her waist. She turned her head, meeting him in a kiss, while their fingers worked her panties off together.

And then he moved. Not soft. Not gentle.

Not harsh.

She didn't know the word. She didn't know it. She needed an entirely new vocabulary here.

Jess, between her legs, one hand steadying himself against the bed. She opened her eyes, looking up into his unreadable expression. Her hand clutched at his back, feeling every muscle stand out.

He thrust into her and she could not help the pained, strangled gasp she let out. Muscles in her stomach fluttered and she tried not to flinch away from Jess. She tried to breathe through the pain, gradually opening her eyes.

"Rory," Jess said, eyes open and expression pained above her. "I... I'm..."

He couldn't say it. Rory swallowed hard. She could feel a million things rising up in her. None of them was regret.

"Don't be."

Jess slowly shook his head. She could feel him quivering under her hands. He winced from her touch, turning his face away.

"What are we doing?"

Oh, sure, now you ask. Rory glared up at him, holding fast when he tried to withdraw.

"It hurt," she started, licking her lips. "We knew it would. But that, it doesn't..."

Rory blew out an angry breath, frustrated with herself. She wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him – _him_, all of him – into her. She let out an unsteady breath. "It doesn't mean I don't want you."

Laughing a little, Jess slid his hand down to her leg, disentangling it from around him.

"You don't know what you're saying. We're at a _party_. In some guy's mom's bedroom."

He backed away, slipping from her. With a snort of self-disgust, he looked away, glancing over the edge of the bed to look for his clothes.

"No," Rory said suddenly, surprised by her own boldness.

Jess raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her: _I'm pretty sure this is actually some guy's mom's bedroom_. So not her point.

Rory tugged on his arm, pulling until he gave under the pressure, laying back on the bed.

"Stay," she said pointedly. She stared at him, eyes taking in his entire body before settling on his face, and his sarcastic expression. He looked one minute away from rolling his eyes and that just _ticked her off_.

"I want you," she repeated, and there it was. The eye roll. Rory frowned, hitting him on the chest with her fingernails. Jess jumped at the stinging blow, eyes going wide.

Crawling over to him, she straddled him. _Rory_. Straddling. These are words that do not occur together in nature, she thought to herself.

Rory bit her lip, feeling ridiculous. No, not ridiculous. The other thing. _Sexy_.

"Um, Rory?" Jess said. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, feel his pulse under her hand. Especially the hand, uh, yeah _that_ hand. The one carefully touching latex, aware of and yet somehow not disgusted by the idea that the slickness of it was due to _her_, hand wrapped around him and awkwardly trying to guide him in once more. "Rory?"

"Yeah?" she said, tongue sticking out as she tried again. Jess thrust up to help this time, and she groaned – a good _groan_, God, so good – at the feeling of him sliding into her.

"Are you sure about this?"

Rory giggled a little, relieved to know the answer here: "Yes. I think... yeah, I actually am."

"But, um," she said, rocking very gently against him. She grabbed the hands skating up to her breasts again, steering them back to her hips, "I could use some help here."

"Okay," Jess breathed.

He flexed his hips upward and Rory's breath hitched in her throat. She braced her hands on his chest, licking her lips before meeting that motion with a flex or her own. One of Jess's hands drifted from her hip, curving to fit her thigh, thumb edging inward. Rory's eyes went wide, realizing his goal.

She heard a low chuckle.

"What? You thought I'd let this be bad, Rory?"

She had, totally had. She'd even listed that as one of her "cons" – first time equals _bad_. It was a fairly compelling reason for lifelong chastity, in addition to the catalogue of mental and physical side effects. So, yes, she hadn't been thinking any sort of good.

Not that she had any real conception of good or how to get there or her and Jess in a scenario where sex added _up_ to good. That was a more sophisticated calculus than they taught at Chilton.

Jess slid his other hand up to her waist, urging her to bend. She did, clumsily meeting him in a kiss.

"Stop thinking," he said.

And she did.

***

Jess had pulled on his boxers, jeans, and shirt. He was done. _Rory_, for some reason, took immeasurably longer.

Jess lounged back on the bed, enjoying the show.

"I could help you with that," he said, eyebrow lifted at her shrugging, awkward attempt to secure her bra behind her back.

"I," she huffed out, "have already experienced your kind of help with clothes tonight, Jess, and I don't think it would be very productive."

"Your loss."

Rory shivered visibly at the idea. Jess could see a shaded half of her face in the dresser mirror; her cheeks were darkly flushed. Fingers skimming along the rumpled line of the chintzy sheets, he allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk. In the course of their travels, his fingers – avoiding the pitfalls of certain wet patches – struck upon a small, metallic object. Her key.

Jess picked it up, thumb grazing over the cut metal teeth. He considered giving it back to her, just as Rory turned, ostensibly dressed. Instead, he pocketed it.

"How do I look?" she asked. She pushed her hair behind her ear, eyes shifty and nervous, smile tugging at her lips. Her shirt was askew from too many nervous tugs, her hair tangled and only barely tamed. There was a mark, rising visible and red, on her neck in the perfect, crooked shape of his mouth.

Jess shrugged, biting his tongue to spare the room the cheese springing to mind. He was _not_ that guy.

"I mean, can you tell? Do you think they can tell? When I walk out there, what are they going to think? Are they going to know? Not that I don't want them to know, you know. Because I'm not ashamed. I just don't want to be tomorrow's headline in the Stars Hollow Gazette because then there are mobs, and fire, and pitchforks, and I kind of like you and don't want you to die, Jess," Rory said, wild gestures accompanying her ever more rapid speech.

Standing slowly, Jess slipped over to her side. He smoothed his hands down her arms, quieting her with a look.

"I can tell," he said, dipping his head to kiss her swiftly.

"I know you can tell," she mumbled, leaning into his shoulder. "I can tell, too."

"Ready to go down?"

Rory nodded and then shook her head frantically. She backed away from him, pulling on her shirt and summoning up borrowed bravado to affect an unconvincing, coy pose.

"How do I look?"

Jess bit his lip, feeling a very male swell of pride as he looked her over. _Freshly fucked_, he didn't say.

"Like a tramp," he said with a smirk.

"_Your_ tramp," Rory said, reaching out a hand to drag him over to her side. She waited for a long time, her hand tensing and untensing in Jess's as she attempted to work up the nerve to exit the room. Jess stood by her side, forcing a casual air he did not feel, unwilling to admit how little he wanted to venture back out there himself.

Eventually, eyes on the bed, she asked, "Don't you think we should do something about," her voice dipped low, quiet with embarrassment, as she considered and discarded words suffused with now secret meaning, "the room?"

"Like what? Teach Kyle a very important lesson about the consequences of leaving bedroom doors unlocked at keggers?" Jess asked. He nudged Rory with hip, pronouncing with relish, "Because I think we already have, Ror."

"Shouldn't we at least make the bed?"

Jess turned to her, staring at silently her through the shadows.

"Um, yeah. Good point," she admitted.

Rory shuffled her feet. Over their breathing, Jess could just make out strains of the top forty so-called music that had replaced Lane's band. There was the sound of muffled, distant laughter, a few offended shouts, and the general clatter of a party still in full swing. There was no chance of waiting this one out.

Decision made, Jess pulled lightly on Rory's hand. And then harder when she didn't budge.

The door gave easily under his hand, light from the hallway washing stark and bright over the entire room. He chanced a glance back at Rory, watching her blink and squint, feeling the tight coil of self-loathing he had been fighting all evening ease just slightly, just for a moment, at the sight.

A smile broke out on her face.

"No pitchforks," she said happily.

"No pitchforks," he agreed, pulling her fully into the light, "Come on."

Skipping a step, she bounced up on her toes, kissing him on the cheek before laughing and pulling on his hand. Like he had been the hesitant one all along. She dragged him half way down the hall before her steps slowed, his quickened, and they synchronized.

He slipped his hand from hers as they turned a corner, descending the stairs. Rory aimed a startled, questioning look at him – quelled only when he instead wrapped his arm around her waist. She relaxed into it, smiling with what Jess thought was clearly post-coital bliss.

Jess half turned, ready to tell her just what a good look that was for her and how much he'd like to apply for a job as her personal stylist, specializing in that – pared down appropriately in syllables and verbiage – when he felt a large, heavy hand fall onto his shoulder.

Motherfuck! Jess thought, feeling the wrench of his shoulder popping painfully out of joint as Dean swung him around, punching him unskillfully the jaw. Jess _heard_ his jaw creak under the blow; he also heard the pop of Dean's knuckles, his barely restrained hiss of pain.

Learn to throw a punch, bag boy.

Together, they stumbled down the stairs. The chatter of the party hushed instantly, people clearing out of the way to make a careful, perniciously interested circle of on lookers.

"Fight!" someone cheered. Jess regretted not being in any position to punch the redundant, blithering idiot out right then and there.

"Jess!" Rory cried out from the landing. Jess snapped his head up, craning to see her, but his vision was blocked by Dean's scowling face. "Dean! Stop it!"

"I'm not fighting you, Dean," Jess said. He circled away from the larger boy, not stupid enough to turn his back, hands still unclenched.

"Oh yeah? Well, you should. Because I'm fighting you," Dean said. He reared back, leveling another punch. Jess ducked out of the way, dodging by millimeters. "I can't believe you."

"What?" Jess laughed out. "You think you're the good guy here? You think you're _defending_ her honor?"

Curious, callous whispers demarcated the fight ring: "What's happening?" "Who are they?" "I don't know... Isn't that Rory Gilmore up there?" "What's _going on_?"

Then a much louder voice of pleased, titillated realization: "Someone got _laid_."

Jess's attention, and everyone else's, flicked up to Rory on the stairs, taking in her silent mortification.

For half a second, Jess wished Dean had done this earlier in the night. That _he_ had done it earlier, when his muscled were wrapped so tightly around his bones in anger that he felt them splintering apart within him. When he wanted nothing more than to split his knuckles on someone's face, prove to the world and Stars Hollow how much he deserved their scorn.

But not _now_. Not with Rory watching. Not right after they'd....

_Dean_. That son of a bitch had to ruin everything.

Eyes narrowing, Jess launched himself at the other boy – and then he had another wish for starting this fight earlier in the night. Before Rory fucked him through the mattress and turned his muscles to _jelly_.

Fucking _ow_.

Settling for grappling, Jess worked his fingers into Dean's shirt, holding fast as the taller boy – much taller, Jesus, what were they feeding him – slammed him into a wall. And then an armoire.

Distantly, he thought he heard Kyle shout, "Not the Hummels!"

Jess wished profoundly that he and Rory had broken in a few more beds. Just to spite Kyle.

"Asshole," he gritted out, sweat dripping into his eyes. His hair, already mussed and less than styled from earlier, stuck to his forehead and he swiped at it in annoyance.

"Same to you," Dean growled back, shoving Jess hard into the front door, breaking its hinges. Jess fell through to the pavement. Panting, he looked up warily at Dean.

Lights flashed blue and red, painting Dean's righteous, smug smirk. It didn't quite fade, and Jess swore softly to himself. Of course not. Nonetheless, Jess had never been more grateful for the police, or the forced idyllic nature of Stars Hollow.

Eyes locked with Dean, lip curling in response to the smug, confident smile on Dean's face, Jess was distantly aware of boots hitting the ground. Police and party goers co-mingled on the lawn; droning notices of dispersal submerged beneath the high note of teenage hysteria. It was possible, Jess reflected, that keggers didn't fly in Maybury.

Two calloused sets of hands took Jess by the arms, hauling him up. Once on his feet, he turned defensively, shrugging them off and warding them away with raised hands. The officers offered conciliatory, bland looks.

"You okay, kid?" one asked. The other, clearly stupider partner reached out a hand, almost touching the bruise blooming on Jess's jaw before taking in the hostile glare leveled at him and thinking better of it.

Great, just what Jess needed. It would have been better to be the center of another of Stars Hollow's witch hunt – he was sure he'd have come up with a rolicking good story for why Dean was justified in sucker punching him, enough to provoke gasps and "gee, willikers" all around. Being pitied as the victim, however, was totally not on. The thought alone made anger roil in his stomach.

He leveled a fierce glare at the cops, who met it with chuckles and placidly raised hands. They backed off, going to secure the area and roust other teens from the yard.

"Jess!"

Hair streaming out behind her, gangly body performing an action straining the definition of "running," Rory appeared in the doorway behind Dean. Her eyes were wide and liquid with sympathy as she made her way to Jess's side.

"Hey," he said quietly, glad when the eyes on her registered and she slowed, coming to a stop a few paces from her. He didn't want her any closer.

Reading his expression, Rory nodded shortly, the motion stiff. There was still a slight flush on her cheeks, warming her face with a gentle glow that off set the blue of her eyes. Her hands plunged into her pockets, posture shy and uncertain; Jess helplessly mimicked the stance.

"So," he started, shoulders beginning to ache with tension, "I should go."

"Jess, the police will want to talk with you!"

Said police were luckily occupied with Kyle, although they kept darting looks over toward the door and Dean. Jess wasn't really up for Dean's contrite act tonight.

"Exactly," Jess said, shrugging a shoulder back to emphasize the idea of _away_.

"Jess!" Rory protested. She stepped closer, the feel of her hand on his arm almost enough to freeze him in to the spot, but then she pulled away in distraction at the sound of retching. "Lane?"

"Go, look after you friend," Jess urged. Rory shot him a frustrated look, as if to say _Since when do you care about Lane?_

Since now.

Jess hunched deeper into his jacket, jaw throbbing and back tingling with the sensation of Rory's burning, disappointed gaze as he walked away from the flood of red and blue light.

***

Lorelai was not the kind of mother who worried. She was cool. She was the cool mom. She let her daughter go out with boys, trusting in her daughter's very good judgment and in the very good head atop her shoulders. She didn't obsess, or toss and turned at night at the thought of her daughter unsupervised, out in the world. She most definitely didn't breathe into a bag when she didn't know where her daughter was.

Those were all things that would make Lorelai very uncool and it was important she lie to herself about just how cool she was. She really didn't know what she would do without that lie.

It would probably be a fair approximation of what she'd done so far tonight, though.

She'd begun by trying to reassure herself that she shouldn't be afraid of a party. It was a known factor, after all. She'd been to just the same kind of parties as a teenager. Margarita in hand, she'd popped in a Bananarama CD, prepared to do a little distracting reminiscence.

And then she actually did reminisce, and remembered exactly what she'd been up to as a teenager, and that none of her fears were of the unknown. Oh no, they were very very much of the _known_. Margarita duly poured out, Lorelai vowed to be wholesome and innocent all evening in hopes that it would traverse the psychic bond she didn't have with her daughter and influence Rory's behavior.

In that spirit, she grabbed a book off of Rory's shelf – a very Rory like one, she thought – and plopped down on her daughter's bed, intent on reading.

And fell asleep. Harassed by dreams of butterflies and kegs of beer and Chilton skirts hiked high by groping boys, Lorelai shuddered awake. She threw _The Metamorphosis_ across the room in disgust, telling herself she'd just buy Rory a new copy when she asked.

Which led her to here and now. Her secret, guiltiest of guilty pleasures: _Jazzercise_.

She was sweating it out in her Juicy velour track suit – because never let it be said that Lorelai Gilmore did not _commit_ to an image – when she heard a distant knock. She scrambled for the remote, frowning and cocking her head as she listened.

"Two bits," she called back cautiously.

"That's not how it works," came Rory's muffled complaint.

Lorelai grinned to herself. Her progeny! Alive and victoriously emergent from the party! Most likely in one piece!

She scooted her booty over to the door, flinging it open with grandiose style while mentally preparing repartee.

"Oh. Uh, hi, Lane," she said, deflating instantly at the sight greeting her on the stoop.

Rory's face was drawn and tired, hair and clothes askew in an indefinably familiar way. She bore up the dead weight of her best friend, supporting Lane with an arm around the shoulder and a much more awkward one around the waist. Lane, hair drooping into her face, looked a mix of queasy and delighted.

"Hi, Lorelai!" Lane crooned.

"Oh God," Lorelai said, eyes widening. She stepped back rapidly, ushering the girls in. Poking her head out the door, she looked around hurriedly for Mrs. Kim. Marginally relieved at her apparent absence, Lorelai drew herself back inside and locked the door. They were probably safe. Unless Mrs. Kim was a _ninja_. Horrifying, and yet possible, Lorelai thought.

"Who let you drink?" she asked Lane.

"I let me drink! Today, I declared my independence!"

"Uh huh, sweetie." She turned to Rory. "You let her drink?"

Rory stared back at Lorelai, unblinking.

"What was that?"

"That was a shrug. I was shrugging. You just can't tell because Lane is oddly heavy."

Gesturing to Rory to give over her burden, Lorelai snorted, "Sweets, I think it's more because you are oddly frail and unmuscular."

"Mean."

"Yep," Lorelai said. She started walking Lane to the kitchen, calling back to an uncertain Rory, "Run upstairs and grab the aspirin from the medicine cabinet, would you?"

She heard the wonderful sound of little feet pounding up the wooden staircase. She guided Lane to sit before brushing the hair from her face, studying her carefully. She looked well enough. Knowing Lane's somewhat hyperactive constitution and restricted life style, it probably hadn't take more than a single beer to knock her flat.

"How are you feeling, hon?"

"Great!" Lane exclaimed, before tracking back, voice somewhat less enthused, with a note of wonder in it, "But spinny."

Just then, Rory entered the room, sidling in and casting confused looks at the frozen Jazzercise instructor on the television screen. She handed Lorelai the aspirin bottle, and Lorelai promptly shook out two pills, and then frowned. Glancing again at Lane, she put one pill back and gave the other to Lane.

"Trust me," she said, going to the sink to fill a glass of water for her.

"Um, mom?" Rory asked. "Were you _exercising_?"

Lorelai winced. She handed the water to Lane, watching as she gulped the whole glass nearly in one go. She took it back to fill it again.

"Mom!"

"Okay!" Lorelai said, turning to Rory. "I admit it. I was exercising, feeling the burn, getting the gain and the pain! Your whole life is a lie!"

"Um," Rory said slowly. Lorelai got the sense Rory was not entirely up for bantering. "Isn't it your life that's a lie?"

"Oh, sweetie, no. My life is an omission of truth, a long series of carefully planned secret work outs deep in the night. _Yours_ is a lie because you think you can eat and eat, and you'll never get fat! But your day _will come_."

Rory frowned at her and Lorelai struggled for a second wind, wondering why her daughter wasn't into this. Come on, perfect mocking material here!

With a sigh, she gave up.

"So how was the party?" she probed, taking another serious look at her daughter. Yes, all limbs still attached. So why the pensive?

A horrible thought occurred to her.

"Why did you knock? Why didn't you just use your key?"

"Oh, um," Rory blushed, looking away. She pushed her hair behind her ear, revealing a vivid red mark on her neck, before looking up hesitantly. "Because Jess took it?"

"Jess took your key?" Lorelai repeated in stupefaction. "Tell me that isn't a euphemism, babe."

"It's not a euphemism." There was long, pregnant pause – one where Lorelai cursed the adjectival centers of her brain. Rory's eyes widened in realization. "Oh God. Oh _God_, it is a euphemism! You euphemismed me!"

"What? Hey, now, I think we've clearly established that whoever was doing the euphemisming," Lorelai said, stumbling over the ridiculous word, "it was _Jess_."

"No, Mom! It was you! You put my key on my belt, rife with symbolism."

"Because you didn't need to take it off! Ever!" Lorelai was faintly aware that her voice was becoming hysterical. No, strike that, _she_ was becoming hysterical. But hysteria seemed like a pretty reasonable response at this juncture.

She was also faintly aware of Lane asleep and drooling on her table. Better that than awake for the drama, she supposed.

"Hello, _bathroom_," Rory said. At which point Lorelai blinked. She had completely lost the plot.

"Wait. You did it in the bathroom?"

"What?"

"What?"

Rory glared at Lorelai, angry breaths heaving in and out as she tried to parse their last exchange. Lorelai wanted to scream, to smash something, to Jazzercise her butt off. She settled for straightening her shoulders and attempting a calm head. Cool mom, remember?

"Okay. From the top, sweetie. Jess took your key."

Rory pursed her lips, looking at Lorelai steadily.

"He did. We did. And you said you would be supportive. So, I guess I'm done here."

Something in Lorelai snapped at her tone. Furious, she pulled Rory away from Lane, grabbing her by both arms. She stared down into her daughter's face, the frightening blankness of it. She could feel how upset Rory was by the tension in her arms – she didn't know if she hoped it was from the events of the party, or their argument now. She honestly couldn't say which would hurt her more.

"No, we are _not_ done," she declared. "You had sex with Jess!"

"I know. I was there," Rory said, voice dipping into her sullen teenage best. Not exactly comparable with Lorelai's sullen teenage best – a pale shade of it even – but the intent was like a slap in the face.

"At a party! That is nothing like you, Rory! Can't you see that? You are not the girl who abandons her best friend to have sex upstairs."

"So, are we talking about Lane now, or you?"

Tears stung Lorelai's eyes. She really couldn't say, at that point, but yes. Yes, she did feel abandoned.

"Just, honey, please tell me he didn't pressure you. Tell me everything is fine."

Rory tilted her head, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Jess is a terrible boyfriend and her forced me and everything you ever said about him is completely true," she sing songed, shaking off Lorelai's hands. "That's what you want to hear, right?"

Lorelai stood gaping, helpless anger swirling in her stomach. She wanted to pull her hair out and scream – and at the same time, she knew she was doing everything exactly wrong. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she closed her mouth, swallowing back emotion.

Rory stepped over to Lane, placing an arm around her to wake her gently. She nudged the glass of water back into her friend's hand, eyes averted from her mother.

"I should probably get Lane home soon," Lorelai said after a long while. She was proud of how steady her tone was.

"You ready to go, Lane?" Rory asked, tone gentle and light, as if she'd never heard her mother speak. Lane nodded sleepily. Without looking at each other, Rory and Lorelai levered her up. They walked Lane to the door. Rory opened it, while Lorelai bore Lane out.

Rory followed them onto the porch, leaning up to hug her friend carefully.

"Drive safe," she commanded, face cold in the dim moonlight, before disappearing back inside. The locks clicked loudly in the night.

It's starting, Lorelai thought with dread. She's shutting me out. She'd thought she had so much more time, that she'd beaten the odds, that her bond with Rory was just so _strong_ that nothing could come between them.

And she was wrong.

Lane stirred toward the end of the drive, just as Lorelai turned onto Mrs. Kim's street.

"I didn't, Mama!" Lane shouted, waking with a jerk. Lorelai slanted a look over at her, hands still at ten and two. Dread had settled firmly in her belly during the drive, but she tried to spare some concern and curiosity for Lane's drama. She'd been in this position all too often herself.

"Didn't what, hon?"

"Um, get drunk at a party that I didn't have a gig at?" Lane said. Memory deadened her features, her bright eyes flickering with fear, and then she said in a rush, "And I didn't call my mom and tell her that and that I'm in love with Dave and _oh God_."

Yep, sounded about right for this night.

Lorelai shook her head slowly, forcing a smile.

"Don't worry. She'll get over it." She patted Lane's hand. "You'll be fine."

Lane laughed unhappily and unconvincingly.

"Pretending is fun!"

It sure was. Lorelai thought to herself later, mounting the steps to her house. She had pretended for a long time that she was okay with Jess, pretended that she was okay with the possibility of Rory taking the next step with him.

She stopped cold, staring at the yellow sticky note affixed to her door. Her fingers smoothed over its curling edges as she read the fine, neatly spaced writing. There was a single point of pressure above the first stroke of the first letter, a bleeding blue dot that spoke of many halting attempts to write.

Lorelai sighed, removing the note from the door. Its single word: "Hey."

She crept quietly into the house, achingly aware of the chill developing between herself and Rory. When she reached Rory's room, she saw her daughter tucked into bed like a child, hair fanning across her pillow, breaths deep and easy. Her heart clenched. Carefully, she made her way over and place the sticky note on the book that had slipped from Rory's fingers – she had somehow retrieved "The Metamorphosis" from where Lorelai had flung it.

Lorelai supposed she could pretend just a little longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Keyless Entry**  
Characters/Pairings:** Rory/Jess**  
Rating:** PG for this chapter**  
Warni****ngs:** references to teen sex; WIP**  
Author's note:** Some significant dialogue is taken directly from 3x20, "Say Goodnight, Gracie" because as much as some things change, others stay the same.**  
Acknowledgment:** Thanks/blame to finnigan_geis for beta'ing, hand holding, and encouraging the damnable idea in the first place.**  
Summary:** What if Rory and Jess had sex in "Keg! Max!"? What if that didn't actually solve any problems?

* * *

Brown paper crackled under Rory's fingers as she extracted the slim, pink compact from its bag. She glanced up, eying herself warily in the mirror, pills in her palm. She really didn't look any different today. Make up a bit smudged, since she hadn't yet had time for a shower. Red mark still visible on her neck. Slight redness to her eyes and lingering pit in her stomach from arguing with her mother.

But different? No, not really.

She opened the compact, pressing the first pill out into her hand. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed before raising her right hand, forefinger and thumb extended, to set an alarm on her watch. The doctor said to take it same time, every day, and she knew how important it was to follow rules.

Rory tucked the birth control pills back into her dresser with an embarrassed, stiff glance toward her door. She was very happy her mother wasn't there, watching her.

It was stupid. It was _weird_, but she'd actually been excited the day they went to the gynecologist. She'd felt so adult and so prepared and so _smart_. She was planning ahead – back then, not even so long ago, the thought of sex still made her quiver and blank into academic, clinical analysis But even despite how unprepared she felt emotionally, her rational mind was right on track, problem solving and considering the minutiae.

Now, a part of her was very grateful for that forethought. Another part was angry, cursing herself for cowardice. Why did she wait until _now_? She could have started taking the pills the day she got them, she could have been prepared and self-reliant.

Or she could have not had sex at a random party.

Biting her lip, Rory met her own eyes challengingly in the mirror. She wasn't mad about that. No, she glared at herself. She was mad at herself for considering being mad about that.

"Sweets, you up?" came Lorelai's hesitant voice from the stairwell.

"Yeah," Rory said, amazed by her own even tone. "We breaking fast?"

"The faster the better!"

Lorelai's head poked around the door. She looked as ill-treated as Rory did, and Rory couldn't help feeling pang of sympathy.

"Truce?" she asked and Lorelai nodded swiftly in eager acceptance. "But, um, can I get a shower first?"

"No. No showers. They are verboten!"

Rory offered a small smile for her mother's forced boisterousness before shooing her out with her hands to find her robe and to undress. She tossed the clothes she'd slept in – still the ones from the party, still the ones that smelled like Jess – into her hamper, laying out what she'd wear for the day. And then, after an almost infinitesimal pause, she grabbed his post-it, folding it and sticking it into her jeans pocket.

Just so she wouldn't forget.

***

Lorelai picked her way across a trash-strewn lawn, throwing a put upon look back at her daughter, waiting just beyond the white pickets with a very large set of identity obscuring sunglasses on her face. Rory smiled back encouragingly, making shooing motions with her hands. Lorelai glowered.

Their venture back to the scene of the crime – and not even Lorelai's crime, she thought, the unfairness of it all striking her deeply – had been inspired by a phone call to Lane. It'd started out as a careful investigation into whether Lane was ever allowed human contact again, or had in fact already been shipped off to a nunnery. It had ended, somehow, in a trek across town, two attempts by Rory to make a break into a bedding store only to be restrained, and finally Lorelai herself going to fetch Lane's bag.

Rory would have gone in herself, she swore, but only if she had fresh sheets on hand and enough time to remake every bed in their house and the neighbors'. Lorelai had politely and carefully explained to her daughter that perhaps such a peace offering, to people who were unlikely to yet know about the offense, would make things worse rather than better.

The sun was casting bright, mid-day rays across the sky as Lorelai walked past where Kyle and his friend bickered, eying the door with trepidation. She had her story down for the off chance someone would ask. She felt the strange echo of the past – the days when she lied for sport and partied down in ways completely unimaginable to Rory – twisted unpleasantly with worry and her own sense of hypocrisy.

Foot on the rounded, outer threshold, Lorelai looked up suddenly to see a large form overshadowing her. Luke was charging angrily toward the door, eyes downcast as he grumbled, apparently unaware.

"Whoa, hold up there, caballero!" she exclaimed, stepping forward to grasp him by both arms and preventing the inelegant tangle of limbs they would have made on the cement.

"Lorelai?" he said with a start, before looking away with a sour twist to his mouth. "Sorry."

"So, they got you, too?" she asked sympathetically. "Is this about the sheets?"

Luke furrowed his brow at her, making that I'm-trying-to-translate-Gilmore-to-English face he always made.

"What?"

"Never mind." Lorelai brushed the question aside with a sweep of her hand. "So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? What happened to the ski trip?"

Luke's expression darkened.

"Jess happened."

"To your ski trip?" Lorelai asked, tone light. She glanced around the living room quickly, taking in the parental looking figures in the corner and penitent teens searching out their own abandoned wares. Happily, they all seemed cocooned in their own worlds of shame and distraction. The entire point of her coming into the house rather than Rory, after all, was sparing her daughter the public humiliation. If a rant could be avoided, she was all for it.

"To my ski trip, to this house, to my _life_!" Luke waved a hand in wild gesticulation. "This morning, I'm in bed. I'm sleeping and the phone rings. And rings and rings, and when I pick it up, who's on the other end?"

"Your otologist?"

"My what?"

"Your ear doctor, to check on you. For the ringing..." Lorelai said lamely, trailing off with a sigh. "Continue."

Luke rolled his eyes, but was not deterred from his rant. Lorelai chanced another look around the room, relieved to see that no one was listening.

"And on the other end of the phone is someone named John who says he's Kyle's father, and Kyle threw a party last night without permission. And two guys got into a fight and tore the place apart, so John wants me to come down and take a look at the damage and discuss some sort of solution to the problem of the damages. Now, I don't know John, and I certainly don't know Kyle, but I do know someone who would get into a fight at a party and leave the place completely trashed. It's a wild guess, but I think his name rhymes with Tess. So here I am, heading in there to talk to John about Kyle and discuss what is to be done about the Hummel. "

Lorelai stared at him, blinking slowly as she took in the full breadth of information she'd just been presented with – and then, much more keenly, she took in what she had _not_ been presented with.

Luke didn't know.

"Well," she said haltingly, "good luck with that."

"We're paying him off installments. No, correction. _Jess_ is paying him off in installments, from the afterlife, after I wring his scrawny neck," Luke growled. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"You want to get right on that? No problem."

Lorelai scooted out of his way, watching his broad back as he stalked away from the house. Her lips pursed, eyes skipping away from him to again land on Rory, who waved hesitantly.

Oh, Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do, Lorelai thought angrily, turning away to look for Lane's bag. To the good fortune of Kyle's family, she found it quickly, hidden away behind a miniature date palm. It did little to quell her destructive impulses, but she was left with no channel for them. She'd just have to wait until she got to the inn. Maybe she could turn over some chairs and kick a fire-scorched wall.

Lane's bag dangling from her fingertips, held a safe distance from her body – bacteria couldn't jump through the air, right? – Lorelai marched back over to her ill-disguised daughter. She thrust the bag at her, enjoying a thrill of malicious joy in the face of Rory's panicked flailing and disgust. Lane's bag dropped to the ground.

"So," she started, arms crossed. "About the party. Anything else you'd like to add? Something about a boy named Tess and Hummels, maybe?"

Rory winced visibly. She looked uncertainly behind her, searching out Luke's long gone form. She looked back at her mother, taking off her sunglasses in the process. Lorelai was very aware of the effect her daughter's big blue eyes had on her, and scowled in response. Save it for your Grandma, girlie, she thought.

"You heard about that?" she said, voice cracking on a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, so, there was a fight."

"Tess and Jean?"

"Yeah."

Rory's voice was very small and Lorelai became distantly aware of her own anger, like a thing apart. She could easily see herself reacting differently, happily, singing for _joy_ at her daughter the newfound trouble maker and party bombshell. But this idea, this situation, Dean and Jess fighting because of Rory the night she lost her virginity in suspect circumstances that still left Lorelai with a dreadful aftertaste of worry in her mouth... there was nothing funny about this.

"They fought over you," she pronounced.

"Yes, okay! Yes!" Rory burst out with unexpected agitation. "Yes, they fought and yes, it was over me! And I know I should be angry, and I _am_, because it was so wonderful and then it was ruined, and I'm not even sure who I'm angry at besides myself!"

"Whoa, honey, calm down," Lorelai said, reaching out to steady her daughter. She took deep breaths to swallow her own anger, reminding herself that she was the adult here. "Tell me what happened."

"And you'll tell me who to be mad at?" Rory asked. It wasn't quite clear from her tone if resented the idea or welcomed it. Maybe both.

"I'll give you my highly biased opinion."

Rory huffed out a breath, looking away as she said, "We were on the stairs, just walking down, but it must have been so obvious, because everyone knew immediately. And, I don't know, Dean thought he was protecting me, or that Jess _did_ something, and he hit Jess, and I don't know why Jess fought back, but he did and they wrecked the place."

"They wrecked the place."

"Yes," Rory said shortly, glaring at her as she waited for Lorelai's final judgment.

"_They_?"

"Yes! They! What, you think it was only Jess?"

"No, hon, I'm just trying to wrap my brain around a visual. Was Dean perhaps picking Jess up bodily, and throwing him down on things? Or did he fall asleep, only to find that Jess and also Lilliputians had bound him to the floor, and when he awoke he was angry, but also confused, and he proceeded to rampage around the house?"

Rory stared at her.

"I'm saying that Jess is tiny, honey."

"I realize."

"I mean, seriously, itty bitty. That's an awful lot of trouble in that little package."

"He does _not_ have a little package!" Rory said heatedly, before flushing bright red.

"Oh, ew! Too much information!"

"Well! You brought it on yourself! Are you going to tell me who I'm mad at?"

"Yes, I am, in fact!" Lorelai said, before allowing an awkward silence to fall. She shifted on her feet, craning her neck to peer around her daughter. She thought she could see Babette and Morey out for a walk, rounding the corner, and waved to then. She turned her attention to the sky. She had moved on from puzzling out the night's weather and the shapes in the clouds to working on optimal planting times right when Rory jabbed her hard in the side.

She rubbed at the spot, pulling a face at her daughter, trying to ignore the impatient tap of Rory's foot, the desperate look on her face. Lorelai _really_ didn't want to say this.

"It sounds," she started, gritting her teeth, "like you should be mad at Dean."

"I should," Rory repeated dumbly. "I mean, I should!"

They both waited a beat, and then Rory bit her lip.

"Um, why should I be mad at Dean?"

"Sweetie, there's nothing you said that makes it sound like he was in the right to hit Jess. So he took a look at you and knew you and Jess had done the deed. So what? You're not his girlfriend anymore – and that was even his doing, not yours. So he thought you might have been hurt. Again, sweets, so what? You weren't and it doesn't sound like he had any reason to think that."

"Except that it was Jess," Rory whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"Except that it was Jess," Lorelai agreed. And yes, she was quite aware of the irony of her saying that, thank you.

"So what now?" Rory asked. She had looked down, long brown hair falling into her face, and now peered up through it at her mother. She seemed ridiculously young in the moment.

"Now we go to Luke's and eat breakfast. No, brunch," she corrected herself. Rory squinted up at the sun, and Lorelai asked sheepishly, "Lunch?"

"Lunch. According to the Julian calendar, anyway."

"And then we make sure Luke doesn't kill your boyfriend."

Rory smiled tentatively at Lorelai, who took the opportunity to pull her close in a one-armed hug.

"I'm glad you're being cool about this, Mom," she said quietly.

"Oh, I am the _coolest_," Lorelai said. If she repeated it often enough, maybe she'd convince herself. Maybe she'd be okay with Rory and Jess and... key taking. And maybe she'd also learn to spin the Earth backwards on its axis, marry David Cassidy, and join the Partridges as a triangle player.

Kissing Rory lightly on the forehead, she squeezed one more time and then released her. Nudging Rory with a hip, hands held far from the offending item, she said, "Remember Lane's bag. I am not touching that thing again until it's been dipped in a hand sanitized vat of burning bleach."

Rory's mouth pulled into a moue of displeasure, and she shot a betrayed look at her mother – who skipped on ahead, pleased with herself. It may not have been catharsis for the whole affair, but it was damn satisfying nonetheless.

***

The townspeople were crazed. Always, in Jess's opinion, but particularly this morning. The diner was crowded full of happy, chattering patrons, voices grating on his every nerve.

He'd been in a mood since awaking, weird and wary – the stiffness of his muscles a reminder of the night before. He'd brushed his teeth with smooth lethargy, stretching and flexing his back, one eye on the mirror, raking over his own appearance suspiciously. He could see a glimmer of some emotion in his eyes, almost hidden under his unmoussed hair. His jaw ached from Dean's heavy blows, and he could see fresh purple darkening on its edge.

Jess felt altogether unwound, put back together strangely. His eyes kept twitching toward the door, his body half turning every time he heard the ring of the bell.

He tried to tell himself that wasn't pathetic.

Navigating amid the hum and din of the crowd, Jess delivered plates, ignored Kirk, and fended off demands for ham. The woman had been asking for a twenty solid minutes, damaging the semblance of cool Jess was struggling to maintain.

"Sorry, ma'am," he smarmed back. "We've gone kosher."

"But it's on the menu!" the woman snapped.

"Take it up with the proprietor. And be sure to give him your name – that'll be a real help when he writes the Anti-Defamation League."

Jess turned before he could take in her reaction – shocked or outraged or angry, he didn't really give shit. She had shut up.

He slid away from the table, turning toward the unkempt man at table two. Against his will, he could feel his eyes lift up and scan the window over the man's shoulder. Yep. Another bland block of the most idyllic town in the lower forty eight, Jess thought, a curl coming to his lip. Nothing to see here.

Shaking himself, he glared down at the customer – who had not yet just partaken of any custom.

"Know what you want yet?"

"Oh, uh, no. Not yet."

Jess shook his head slowly in aggravation. He hated indecisive customers. He snatched the menu from the table, thrusting it to the man without looking. His eyes had again settled on the familiar sidewalks outside the diner. He twitched, noticing two familiar figures deliberately marching his way, one flanked by women, walking with great fanfare and the other noticeably more tense and staid.

Taylor and, fuck, Luke. Making his way back from Kyle's it looked like. Double fuck.

Suddenly suffused with anger, Jess clunked his carafe of coffee down on the table, pulling his order pad out with a sneer.

"Well?" he said.

The man fumbled the menu.

"I'll just have more coffee."

"You already do," Jess drawled, jabbing his pencil toward the carafe. The man shifted awkwardly. "How about you pour yourself a cup, order something, or get the fuck out of here?"

The tenor of the diner buzz changed pleasantly in Jess's ears, with multiple murmurs of one refrain: "Did he really just...?" Oh yes, he had.

The man at the table looked spooked, gathering his things up hastily and bolting for the door. It occurred to Jess that, bruising visible on his face, sneer on his crooked lips, maybe he looked more intimidating than the average waiter.

Whatever.

Luke was going to kill him for driving off a customer. But he was already going to kill him, so at least this way Jess was treated to the man barreling into Taylor, throwing off his song and dance routine before he even got two notes into it, and scattering taffy all over the floor.

Pleased with himself, Jess sauntered back to the counter to affect an air of nonchalance, ignoring the customers scooping candy from the floor on their hands and knees as Taylor shouted at them in flustered bafflement. He seemed particularly betrayed by the large pile Kirk was scooping on his table, right in front of him, in the middle of the diner.

He had only just cobbled together enough of his dignity – if that was an accurate word to use – when Luke entered.

"Who can take a sunrise," he sang, only to be interrupted.

"Can it, Taylor! And while you're at it, get out. And while you're at _that_, how about you write this month's rent?"

"Now, Luke," Taylor sputtered, "I'll not have you slandering me in public. We both know my rent checks are both timely and written with excellent penmanship."

"You write like a girl," Luke replied, voice low. His eyes were on Jess, who returned the look coolly. "Now _leave_."

Taylor grumbled, pressing fliers for his opening into hands and onto empty table corners before turning with a huff and leaving. Luke didn't move from the door, forcing Taylor to turn sideways, taking in a deep gasp of air before sidling past him.

"You know where I was this morning?" Luke started. The diner resumed its previous noise level; evidently Jess-in-trouble was hardly gossip worthy anymore.

"No, where?" Jess asked sarcastically.

"Kyle's house." Jess's heart sank just a little at the confirmation. He'd hoped it was something else for a short, stupid moment. "His parents called me this morning."

"I didn't start it," Jess cut in. The fight. He was going to make this about the fight. No way in hell was Luke going to talk about him and Rory. No fucking way. Not here. "_Dean_ started it."

"Oh, you're not really going to use that one, are you?"

"Well, he did. He sucker punched me and I was just defending myself."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Oh, apparently you defended yourself all the way through the house and out into the front yard. You defended yourself with a chair that is now broken. You defended yourself with a coffee table. You defended yourself with an ottoman."

"I don't need a recap," Jess snapped. He was torn between sincere thanks that Luke didn't care enough to question motives and anger that it apparently didn't fucking matter if he was in the wrong or in the right.

Luke snapped his mouth shut, big hand coming up to point angrily at Jess.

"You're paying the money back."

No, he wasn't. He was saving – saving up the insult Luke called a paycheck, saving up the reduced hours he was working at Wal-Mart since his car was stolen, saving all the tips and change and pennies he found on the sidewalk left without return addresses.

Jess opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself at the ring of the entry bell. He stiffened, craning his neck to see around Luke's bulk. It was her. He couldn't see her, but the distinct sound of Gilmorese suddenly flowed under the currents of diner conversation.

His anger shriveled instantly.

"Fine, whatever," he said in distraction, pushing past Luke to the door.

Rory stood awkwardly next to her mother, both of them scanning the diner for an open table. Her eyes shone as they fell on him; Jess was almost repelled by the amount of relief he felt.

"Hey."

A faint smile curved her lips. Rory slipped her hand into her pocket, extracting a yellow note.

"You already said that."

"Adorable," Luke ground out, suddenly looming between them. "But if you'll hang on just a moment, Rory, I need to finished berating my nephew here."

"Um, actually, Luke, I need to have a word with you about that," Lorelai said. Jess's eyes widened in panic. Not good.

She took Luke by the bicep with one hand, leading him away. She circled the other and pointed to their usual table by the window, eyes widening with purpose as she compelled her daughter to stake a claim.

Rory furrowed her brow and mouthed back to her, "Taken."

Lorelai sighed, grousing, "Are you my daughter or not?"

Luke pulled on her grip, trying to turn back to address Jess, but Lorelai took full command of his body, steering him back behind the counter. The sheet in front of the stairwell fluttered as she pushed him past it, but remained curved with the outline of her body. Apparently she hadn't managed to actually get him more than two steps up.

"So," Rory started, pushing her hair behind her ear and biting her lip delicately. "What's going on?"

Jess shrugged. He probably had about three seconds to live, but he was trying not to dwell on it.

"Free taffy day," offered Kirk thickly. He held up a handful for Rory to inspect. She selected a few merrily before Jess dragged her away, glaring at Kirk all the while.

"Jeez," he groaned. "Let's get you that table."

Rory put a hand on his arm, sending a shock through him.

"I'm fine right here," she said, turning into his body.

She smiled up at him, and why did she have to do that? He exhaled carefully, bringing his hand to touch her hair where sunlight from the windows made it shine. He slid his fingers through it, hesitantly brushing against her cheek. She turned into the touch, tilting up ever so slightly on her toes, and he curved his palm to fit against her jaw, drawing her into a soft kiss.

Rory pushed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a long, quiet sound that Jess thrilled to hear in public. They were in _public_. Everyone in the diner was watching them, dark disapproval in their eyes, and Jess could not love this moment more.

But Rory wouldn't. Jess jerked back from the kiss at the realization. A loud thump sounded on the stairs at the same time, saving Jess from explaining as Rory's eyes drifted over to the source. Luke and Lorelai were making their way back, a discontent but partially mollified look on Luke's face. Lorelai, for her part, offered a conciliatory shrug: _I tried_. Jess frowned at the unexpected sentiment.

He dragged his attention back to Rory.

"So, um," he struggled for something to say, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His fingers touched up against metal. Right. "So, you forgot your key."

Rory blushed, but she didn't resist when he pressed it back into her hand, fingertips tracing slowly over her palm as he drew back. Rory gave a shuddering gasp at the contact, gaze heated as she pinned him with a look.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Same thing I'm doing this afternoon, I hope," he said with a smirk.

"This is a good plan," Rory said. Then her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no! _No_!"

"You're busy."

"I am," she cried woefully. "Paris and the paper and then my grandparents tonight."

Jess tried not to let his disappointment show. He'd ask her to cancel, but he knew better. He twitched his shoulders up in a shrug.

"Maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe tomorrow _what_, Jess?" Luke interrupted. Jess slouched sullenly at the interjection. He'd somehow managed to forget that Luke was watching. Okay, no. He'd just assumed that Luke would be as dim and oblivious as he usually was.

He turned on his heel to glower up at his uncle.

"Tomorrow I work until child labor laws intervene," he predicted, hard edge in his voice.

"You're not a child," Luke replied. He took Jess by the arm, tossing an apologetic look to Rory. "And we're having another talk."

"Great. Because I really thought we were drifting apart, as people."

Jess shook off Luke's grip, following him unwillingly upstairs, to the apartment. The was a brief, welcome moment of silence before Luke closed the door behind himself, wheeling around on one foot to loom into Jess's personal space. Jess steeled himself, crossing his arms and pretending he hadn't just taken an involuntary step backwards.

"You had sex with her!"

Jess thought about playing dumb: I had _what_? With _who_? He suspected that would not play well.

"And?" he asked.

"And you got into a fight, with _Dean_, at a party on the same night! Are you going to tell me these things aren't connected?"

"Would you believe me if I did?"

Luke let loose a growl of frustration, stalking away from Jess toward the outer wall of the apartment. He stood there for a moment, gazing down at the happy, nutty townsfolk. He slammed his hand against the wall, rattling the windows in their frames.

"What is wrong with you, Jess? We had a deal! You go to school, you stay out of trouble, and you don't do _anything_ to that girl!"

Jess's jaw dropped open incredulously.

"You think I hurt her?"

Luke turned, big arms folded across his chest. His voice was nearly flat as he said, "You tell me, Jess. Why else would Dean have hit you?"

"I can't – You're taking _his_ side? He hit me to hit me! He hit me because I'm with Rory and he's not!"

Luke snorted softly in disbelief.

"Dean's a stand up guy. You know, he was there this morning. He was at Kyle's house, earlier even than me, talking to John and apologizing. They worked out a deal for how to pay for the damages and by the end, John _thanked_Dean. That's the kind of kid Dean is." His lifted his chin, eyes boring into Jess, making him shift defensively. "Where were you?"

"Covering _your_ diner!" Jess shouted back. "Although, you're right. Maybe I should have gone out, too. Left the place to burn down. I'm sure that's exactly the kind of stand up thing Dean would do."

Luke ignored the sentiment, continuing as if he'd never even heard Jess, "And he's going to college, too. You know that? Southern Connecticut State. So, tell me, Mr. Barely Graduating, why exactly I should take your word over his?"

Jess stared at him, before letting out a surprised, hollow laugh.

"You got that wrong, Uncle Luke," he said. What little frayed pride he'd managed to hold onto the past few days disintegrated fully as he admitted, "It's Mr. Not Graduating."

"We had an agreement." Luke's voice was very quiet. Very angry. Not at all like him. Jess was used to the shouting and the flailing – it usually amounted to all of jack, and if he was quick about it he could slip on earphones without Luke noticing. This was different.

Shaking his head slowly, Jess cast his eyes up to the ceiling.

"No, you had an agreement."

"You were going to go to school. You were going to _graduate_!"

"Past tense," Jess said, trying to sound indifferent.

Luke's jaw worked silently for a moment.

"Same to you. Get out."

Well, fuck.

Jess turned without a word, holding his head high, ignoring the persistent itch of his eyes as he stormed out. Fuck this and fuck Luke. He nearly ran down the stairs, half hoping Rory was still there and they could... something. Something that would feel better than this.

Dangerous thoughts, Mariano, he thought to himself. That was exactly how this had started, back at the party. The stupidest reason possible they could have sex, one he already cursed himself for, and yet he couldn't help himself from wanting to run back to her and make the exact same mistake again.

His self-restraint, his self-_respect_, was not put to the test when he got to the diner, however. Rory was gone, and Jess didn't know whether to curse his luck or thank it.

"I'd like to pay," Kirk said, standing by the register with his odd, flat expression and odd, stiff posture. "Mother wanted me to use the swear jar today, so it's all dimes."

Oh, definitely curse, Jess decided. Groaning mentally, he walked over and waited for Kirk to count out his bill, wondering why he was even bothering. He was kicked out. He didn't live here anymore and presumably didn't work here anymore. He wasn't lingering down here in the hope that Luke would change his mind. That would be truly sad.

Fuming, Jess tried to talk himself into just walking out. And going... where?

Finally, Kirk pushed a stack of dimes toward Jess, who swept them up, dumping them into the register without verifying the amount.

"Thanks for your business," Jess gritted out.

Kirk turned to leave, halting briefly to turn half his body, giving a parody of a conspiratorial look to Jess. He jerked a thumb toward table two near the window.

"She left something for you."

The bell clattered softly as Kirk left. Jess moved slowly, eyes following his body as he turned to look to the table. He squinted and frowned. It was hard to tell from this distance. Something flat, held down with a single, brightly wrapped taffy. A letter.

Jess's heart thumped in his chest. He boosted himself over the counter, striding over in a blink. He gave a physical flinch at the table when he took in what she'd left, not a letter or a book, just his order pad. Jess looked up, glaring at Kirk's retreating back. Very funny.

He was about to turn, about to fucking walk out, when he realized there was something written on the pad after all. He brushed aside the candy and picked it up, looking closer.

On the thin sheet of paper, he could make out the faint press of a pencil – echoes of writing left from the pages above. Most were his own hastily scribbled orders, but very distinctly, in the middle of the page, there were deeper imprints. The long stroke of an "l". The loop of an "o".

Almost obscuring both, though, was the broad sweep of Rory's handwriting, real and in dark blue ink: "Hey, you."

Jess smiled.

He sat down at the table, wanting at the same time to clutch the paper closer, to tear it off and keep it, and to never touch it again for fear of damaging it. He shifted in his seat, casting a look back to the counter and the stairs behind it. He made to stand, not quite sure what he was going to say to Luke, but sure there was more he could do.

His shoe kicked up against something, and Jess stopped mid-movement. He crouched down and picked up the offending item. A wallet. The man he'd scared out of the diner before must have dropped it.

***

Rory found Lane on the porch outside her house, furiously waxing a table. Her heart clutched at the sight – although Lane had explained everything about the party fallout and her self-imposed punishment in a frantic whisper over the phone earlier, much of it hadn't really hit home for Rory, caught up in her own fallout as she was. Lane was prone to some small degree of exaggeration and overreaction, though. Rory hoped none of this meant she had truly given up on the band or Dave.

"Hey," she said. She raised a hand quietly, Lane's bag held a generous distance away from her body. Lane's head darted up and, taking in the sight of her friend, she immediately applied herself more heartily to the table.

"Hi, Rory," she huffed out. "Thanks for bringing my bag."

"Um, Lane," Rory started. She walked up the steps, placing a cautious hand on Lane's arm. "I think the table is as shiny as it's going to get. And Mrs. Kim isn't going to disown you for taking a break."

"Oh, but she _should_! She's not even punishing me, you know? Unless this _is_ the punishment – the waiting, the not knowing, the driving myself crazier and crazier. I've polished everything in the house, you know. Twice."

Rory winced.

"Is she still Stepford about the party?"

"Stepford doesn't quite encompass the full _depth_ of calm and weird. Mama is being a Stepford zen master of chill. From the moon."

"They're more chill on the moon?"

"It's space. Space is cold."

"Oh," Rory said, nodding along gamely. She tried on a smile for Lane. "Of course."

"So how did you do it?" Lane asked suddenly, dropping her cloth onto the table to look desperately into Rory's eyes. "How did you explain things to your mom?"

"Things?" Rory was a little ashamed of how squeaky her voice had just gotten. She could have sworn Lane was passed out for most of that argument. Damn.

"You know. The fight and," Lane trailed off, flushing as she fumbled for words. "And, um, your key?"

Oh God, was that going to be a town-wide thing now? Rory had always wanted to make her mark on the local lexicon, but not like this.

She shrugged awkwardly.

"I didn't. Mom was just... cool with it."

"Yeah." Lane straightened, thinking out loud. "Yeah, she would be. I mean, she knows all about youthful indiscretion... not that you were indiscreet! But if anyone can bring the empathy, it's totally your mom. She's cool that way."

Rory felt very much that she was eliding the facts of the situation, projecting what she hoped for herself, but Lane's wistful expression made it impossible to point that out. Uncomfortably, she agreed, "Yeah. She sure is cool."

"So. Um. How was it?" Lane asked in a rush.

Rory stared.

"How was what?"

"The _you know_. When he... " Lane said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She looked behind herself in a panic, trying to peer into the windows of her house in case her mother was lurking. Even more quietly, she added, "When he took your key."

"I, um, oh, I forgot!" Rory said, stumbling backwards off the porch stairs to get away. "I have newspaper. So, I kinda... have to go. I'll talk to you later!"

"Yes! Talk to me! Please!" Lane called after her.

Embarrassed, Rory offered a noncommittal smile and wave before pelting away down the street. She really was late for the newspaper meeting, she told herself. Paris would be furious. She was just trying to mitigate the damage.

In fact, Paris was not furious when Rory arrived more than an hour late. She was coolly dictatorial, the only reproach she offered Rory a wry eyebrow lifted in her general expression as she gestured toward Madeline and Louise, who were both hard at work on the layout. That alone was a blow to Rory's ego, particularly when she caught the hushed complaints from the pair about the boy-limo-dress coordination scheme Paris had forced them to abandon in favor of actual _work_.

Rory line edited the final articles with both fury and distraction. Every few minutes she would find her attention drifting to the night before, to remembered gasps, to the way Jess breathed her name into her shoulder, shuddering all the while. Breathing harshly, trying to shake the feel of his touch away, she would look to the table with Madeline and Louise's unfinished prom plans and feel a tight knot form in her stomach. She was moving too quickly – moving away from such high school, girlish things. She didn't even know where she stood anymore, what she wanted, if the prom was a possibility anymore. Lane's ambition to punish herself had already ruined half of the dream – they could hardly double date to the Stars Hollow High prom if Lane and Dave weren't going. But beyond that, there was the Jess question.

There was always the Jess question.

Every time her mind hit up against it, red ink would flow, her pen slashing through commas splices, extraneous adverbs, and what passed for high school wit. When Paris called one her edits "impressively ruthless" she knew it was time to call it a day.

"Wait, I meant that as a compliment!" Paris shouted after her.

She wandered out into the Chilton halls, staring blearily at the walls. She wrapped her arms around herself, book lying unopened on her lap as she watched the tick of a hall clock. It was late afternoon, getting on toward evening. Rory couldn't believe that she had a dinner yet with her grandparents. She'd done so little all day, but she was thoroughly exhausted.

Biting her lip, she made a decision. She was going to beg off.

"Hi, Grandma," Rory said hoarsely into her phone. She'd learned a trick or two from her mother, after all.

"Oh my God, Rory, are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, pausing to cough pathetically. She could almost _hear_ her grandmother's wince. "I just wanted to warn you that I might not be good company tonight."

"Are you sick? You know, last time you were here I thought you were looking a little pale. Didn't your mother notice? Of course not, she wouldn't. She'd rather send you off to us, looking like death, just to make us feel guilty."

Rory opened and closed her mouth, trying to think for a moment how in the world that would make her grandparents feel guilty, rather than righteous and vindicated about her mother's faults. She kept silent, knowing it was better to just let her grandmother rant it out; some traits just bred true.

"… and you should make sure to drink that tea I told you about last time, the _juniper_ tea. Marcus Abernathy's wife was nearly consumptive, and in this day and age, but she swears by it now. She looks flush and healthy as a Georgia peach, which she's not, despite what Marcus may say."

"Okay, Grandma. Juniper tea. Got it."

"And you rest up. I want to see you next week, bright eyed and bushy tailed!"

"I will, Grandma. I'll see you then," Rory said, breathing out a sigh of relief. This lying thing was easier than she'd suspected. "So, um, I'll tell Mom you said hi."

"Oh," Emily said flatly. "You don't have to do that."

"But I will. She says hi, too. She's just, um, sick."

"I'm sure she is."

The line fell silent for a long moment. Rory wondered if she'd just blown the whole thing, but eventually she heard a quiet exhalation from her grandmother. She felt a pang of remorse – she didn't think her grandmother liked tip toeing around the subject of her mother anymore than she did. She'd been stupid to even bring her up.

"I'll see you soon, Grandma."

"You will," Emily asserted. "Goodbye, Rory."

"Bye, Grandma."

Rory pressed the end button happily, feeling light. She was free and clear.

She was ashamed of how quickly her thoughts turned to Jess. She wasn't that girl. She _wasn't_. She wasn't the girl who had sex at a party, fought with her mother, lied to her family, and snuck off to go see her boyfriend again. She spent the entire bus ride back to Stars Hollow convincing herself of this.

Straightening her shoulders in her seat, Rory watched Woodbury blur into Stars Hollow, eyes lighting on the video store. Yes. Movie night. She had intended to have one with her grandmother and grandfather, so why not just trade it off for a movie night with her mother? It'd been a long time since they'd hung out together and it would go a long way toward making up for her own misdeeds.

She picked her way through the new releases, eying them distastefully, before making her way into the comedies. Something cheesy and eighties would do.

As she paid, she tried not to spare a thought for the old Rory curtain – long defunct since the proprietor, and Taylor, discovered pornography in the Bambi boxes and that somehow Chip 'n Dale had been swapped with a Chippendale performance. Rory really had no idea how Jess had pulled it off. Maybe he was Batman?

There was a shorter route back to her own house, but Rory's traitorous legs took her past the diner regardless. The lights were dimmed upstairs, business bustling downstairs. She slowed, peering through the window, trying to make out ruffled hair and a slouched posture, but Jess was nowhere to be seen.

Until she looked across the street, to the gazebo.

A fine trail of smoke wended into the air, dark red glow of a cigarette burning into the dusk hours. Jess sat on the gazebo steps, piercing gaze fixed on her, long fingers flicking occasionally at his cigarette. There was a large, full duffel bag beside him.

"No!" Rory shouted, shaken by the force in her own voice. Jess rose in startlement, casting a confused glance behind himself. She ran angrily across the street, stopping at the gazebo steps to glare up at him, balling her hands into frustrated fists. She'd never wanted to hit anyone before, never in her life.

"Rory," Jess started, "What's..."

"No!" she said again. "No, you can't do this. You can't just _leave_ every time it gets hard!"

But, of course, he could. He had before. One stupid, little car accident and he ran away. This was so much bigger than that had ever been. Big and scary and she'd thought it'd been good, but maybe that was because she was being a dumb schoolgirl, and maybe everyone in the whole town was right about Jess. Maybe he'd gotten the one thing he wanted from their so-called relationship, so now it was hasta la vista, without even a cursory baby.

"Ror," Jess said, snapping her attention back to him. He was all blurry, face a mottled collage of deep purple bruises and sharp angles; she realized her eyes were filled with tears. He stepped down to the sidewalk, hands coming up to rub at her arms soothingly. "I'm not leaving."

"What?" she croaked.

"I'm not leaving."

"Oh," she said, feeling stupid. She shook him off, scrubbing at her face wildly with her hands. He didn't allow that long, dragging her back into his arm to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I didn't mean... I know how it looks. I didn't mean to make you think that," he mumbled into her hair. Rory swallowed thickly, grateful she couldn't see his eyes. She hated seeing that guilty, helpless look he got anytime their relationship stumbled – he always took all the blame, and she always allowed it wordlessly.

She tugged at his hand and they separated, sitting on the steps of the gazebo without looking at each other. Rory tried to calm down, shaking away her fear and the sudden chill it brought. Not long after, Jess helped her there, wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders. She cast a shy smile over at him, relaxing marginally. Jess flicked again at his cigarette, casting it toward the ground to join a dozen more cigarette butts, into a cultivated patch of begonias that ringed the gazebo. Taylor would have a conniption, she thought vaguely. The sight did nothing to allay her worry, only to transform it.

Jess didn't usually chain smoke.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Jess pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket, shaking one out and lighting it. He drew in a deep lungful of smoke, saying on the exhalation, "Luke kicked me out."

"Because of us? Because we... you know?"

Jess nodded shortly, pausing a long time before confirming in a falsely casual tone, "Yep."

Rory's mind raced. She was suddenly furious at herself. She'd always been glad of Luke's protection – he was so much more of a father to her than Christopher had ever been – but now it seemed like a betrayal. It's none of his business, she thought. Not his, not Dean's.

"He can't do that!" she said, trying to stand. The lights of the diner were on, casting a warm yellow glow into the early spring evening. The shapes of Babette, Morey, Miss Patty, and other townies were plainly visible inside. Someone said something, and Miss Patty's large form shook with boisterous laughter. Luke paused next to the group, shaking his head before moving on. He'd probably been in the diner all afternoon. She could easily envision Jess and Luke exchanging silent stares at each other across the short, uncrossable distance between them.

Rory could do it. She could charge in right now and tell Luke to leave his so-called chivalry in the last century, where it belonged.

Well, she could if Jess would let her stand. He refused to release her, pulling her back down onto the steps to sit. She struggled awkwardly for a moment, before crossing her arms in annoyance.

"That's not fair. Using your man-strength against me like that!"

Jess turned slowly against her side, casting a look down at her.

"Man-strength?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows. Lorelai's comments about his relative size came back to her unexpectedly, and Rory flushed. "You know, I'm surprised at Luke. I really thought he would have approved of this development. The amount of money it's going to save him in water bills alone."

Rory stared at him, lips moving in shock as she worked out his meaning. He quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to realize what he was saying.

"Oh. Oh, ew!" she said, pushing at him. "Jess!"

"The saddest part is, Luke really thinks I take an hour in the bathroom for my _hair_."

"Please stop talking," Rory mumbled, covering her ears. She so didn't need to hear this. She didn't need to _think_ it. Jess in the mornings, naked in the shower... Oh God, she could totally see it now, too.

And what was worse, it was turning her on.

"Jess!" she groaned again as he tried to peel her fingers from her face, teasing smile on his face. A tiny part of her wanted to laugh with him.

"Oh, come on, Rory. You're saying you don't?"

"No," she said primly, glaring at him. "I don't."

"Ah," Jess said, bobbing his head, sly look on his face. This so wasn't fair. He'd been able to fluster her with a look _before_ the whole sex thing. Now it was in the mix and he had an entirely new spectrum of topics to harass her about. "You don't know how. That's okay. We'll work on that."

Rory's breath caught in her throat and she looked up into his eyes. Feeling daring, a reply bubbled up in her before she could stop it, "Luke always said he wanted me to rub off on you."

Jess laughed, suddenly and quickly and she smiled back at him, cheeks burning. The corner of his smile touched the bruise on his face, and somehow he didn't wince, like he was trying to prove how little all of this hurt him. Rory's good humor fled her, ache forming in her chest.

"Jess, he can't do this," she said, swallowing thickly. "He's your guardian. He's has to give you a place to live, at least!"

He shrugged.

"I'm eighteen. Legal obligation ends there."

Rory stared at the diner. She couldn't believe this.

"He'll come around. He has to," she said to herself. A little louder, she asked, "Have you tried talking to him?"

Jess laughed roughly, puffs of smoke delineating each separate breath. "How do you think I got packed so quickly? I wasn't waiting for you _all_ afternoon. I tried, we went three more rounds, and after the last one, he threw my bag out after me."

He let go of her to lean back on his elbows, throwing his head back to study the gazebo roof as he smoked. Rory watched him silently. She had no idea how he could be so calm about this. After some time, his eyes turned back to her, inscrutable and dark.

"I didn't have to come here," he started. "Liz bought the ticket and then forgot. She didn't even know the day I was supposed to go. I got to Grand Central and wondered what the fuck I was doing. It didn't matter if I even got on the bus. It's not like Liz would get mad about it."

Rory reached for his hand, recognizing the moment for what it was. Their fingers interlaced lightly.

"So why did you come?"

Jess shook his head slowly, looking again to the roof. Rory wetted her lips, a selfish anxiety singing in along her nerves. She knew the answer she hoped for; she knew it was equally unlikely to be the truth.

When he did speak, it was hardly any kind of relief: "I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Keyless Entry**  
****Characters/Pairings:** Rory/Jess**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
****Warnings:** teen sex; WIP  
**Acknowledgment:** Thanks/blame to finnigan_geist for beta'ing, hand holding, and encouraging the damnable idea in the first place.**  
****Summary:** What if Rory and Jess had sex in "Keg! Max!"? What if that didn't actually solve any problems?

* * *

Stippled concrete hooked into Rory's blouse, prickled against her scalp. Jess's hand moved from her jaw, stroking down her throat. She arched harder into the kiss and he pressed her harder back against the wall. Her hand was on his chest, above his pounding heart, feeling each ragged breath he took.

"Stay," he whispered, lips leaving hers just for an instant.

Rory opened her eyes, throwing her head back, letting his mouth move from hers down to her collarbone, panting as shege tried to think. The motel balcony had inlaid, yellow lighting that buzzed and flickered in the night. Jess moved against her, pressing her flush to the wall as he kissed the hinge of her jaw. There was no more politeness, no more shy uncertainty to how he held his body to her – they knew each other and he couldn't bring himself to be coy. Rory felt every inch of his arousal.

"Stay tonight," he repeated, hand on her face to tilt her head back down. His eyes were dark, wanting.

Rory shivered at the look.

"I can't."

Jess kissed her again, softly, hands and body retreating from her. Her traitorous body followed, pulling her away from the wall, seeking him, only to be halted by his steady hands and ironic look.

"Tomorrow?" Jess asked thickly.

Rory felt herself quivering, breath still coming in heavy pants. She blinked eyes that had fallen shut open, peering hazily at him. She nodded and then licked her lips.

"Tomorrow."

She walked away, feeling his gaze burn her back.

The feeling lingered through her movie night with Lorelai, killing their usual running commentary in its tracks. Rory would look away from the screen, flushing and shifting where she sat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She ached. It wasn't long before she begged off for a quick shower and bed. Her mother lifted an eyebrow, ready with a snarky comment about Rory wearing herself out between the sheets – a pun on newspapers and sex, no doubt, but Rory was in her room, in her robe before she parsed it.

She slid into the shower, recalling only too well Jess's challenge to her. She fiddled with the water settings, turning it warmer and warmer to nearly scalding, before settling it back on a more comfortable temperature, nervous excitement humming along her skin and twitching her fingers on the control.

The heat in the shower was almost suffocating, steam fogging up every surface and filling Rory's lungs. She squared herself with determination, bringing her hands back to her sides to skim up and down her own flesh. She felt a little distant from herself, a little silly. By the time her fingers slid between her legs, touching herself there and trying to recall what Jess had done, she could feel her arousal fading. This wasn't supposed to be hard. Rory frowned, fingers stroking more roughly between her thighs. She lifted a leg onto the lip of the bathtub. Leverage was good, right? Oh. Oh, it _was_ good.

Rory flailed, nearly slipping as her fingers circled in just the right, distracting way. She knocked her shoulder against the shower wall, groaning at the painful contact and she let out a hoarse shout of frustration. She wanted to pout, to kick something.

The moment was gone. Rory glared at the cooling stream of water, reaching for her loofah. She was just a dumb, clumsy vir- well, not virgin. But close enough that apparently she couldn't get herself off.

She showered quickly after that, disappointed and embarrassed for herself – she didn't quite know if it was worse that she had tried to masturbate, or that Jess was right. She had no idea how to do it.

A sheet of wet hair hiding her face, Rory slunk back to her room, past where Lorelai lay on the couch. Its springs creaked as Lorelai moved, scrunching up in what almost passed for a sit up.

"Long shower, eh?" Lorelai called, laugh bubbling just under her words.

Rory closed her door loudly and pointedly, flopping onto her bed face down. She really wished she'd stayed the night.

She slept fitfully, dreams chasing her awake again and again. More than once Rory woke with a strangled moan, fingers knotted into her sheets, dream ending before the good stuff. She blinked in the darkness at the other, narrow side of her bed. She wondered what it would be like, sleeping with Jess next to her.

Dawn lit across the sky and unshuttered windows let bright streaks of daylight in to wake her. Rory groaned, flinching away before sprawling out spread eagle on her bed. She looked up at her plain ceiling, the handful of childish glow stars that had survived time and gravity to remain stuck.

"Rory!" her mother called. Rory flopped her head to the side, squinting at her clock. Was it that late? "Breakkie!"

Rory could not believe her less, but she nonetheless slouched to the kitchen table with a blanket still in hand. She immediately dropped her head onto the table, glaring balefully at her mother bustling around the kitchen to make coffee and Pop Tarts. She collected plates and mugs, turning with panache as she balanced it all like an over worked waitress.

"Morning!" Lorelai sang out, setting everything down on the table. She did a double take, peering at her daughter. Concern flickered over her face, and she reached out to press the back side of her hand to Rory's forehead. Rory batted it away in annoyance.

"I'm not sick," she said.

"Okay! Then, I guess I have the right to do this," Lorelai replied cheekily. She lifted a limp hand to point at Rory, "Ha ha! _Bed head_!"

"What?" Rory asked, stiffening. She sat up properly raking her fingers through her tangled hair. She stared at how the strands snarled around her fingers. "You couldn't have said something?"

"I just did," Lorelai said. "And before you went outside. So, win for me."

"Muh," Rory said, slumping back again in her chair. She drew her plate toward herself, staring at it sullenly. She pressed the edge of her thumbnail into the Pop Tart's crust, making a corner crumble off.

"Oh, did someone sleep badly?" Lorelai asked gleefully. Rory wondered what she had done in a past life to deserve a mother like this. Did she burn Alexandria? Did she sack Rome? Did she tell her mother she was _funny_?

"No. It was amazing. A++, would sleep again," Rory replied, mind working slowly. Maybe a Broadway reference next?

She didn't have time to work it in, as Lorelai leaned over the table to pat her hand. Rory tried to focus on her face.

"Now, honey. I know you and Jess have taken a big step, but you have to give him _time_. Just because he put out once, that doesn't mean he's going to put out every time. You gotta work it. You gotta _romance_ him."

Rory jerked her hand away from her mother, eyes widening in horror. She was suddenly very, very awake.

"What?" she yelped. "Ew, Mom!"

What ever happened to Lorelai being against Jess? That had been nice. She missed that.

Lorelai just laughed, a long, happy chuckle that shook her whole body. She wiped tears from her eyes, grinning at Rory.

"Mom!" Rory repeated, drawing out the syllable in a wholly undignified whine.

"I just think it's funny," Lorelai said. She settled back in her chair, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "You aren't a virgin for _one day_, and already you get sexually frustrated if you don't get some."

"Oh God."

Mortified, Rory buried her face in her hands. She had hoped that her little experiment in the shower hadn't been quite so blatantly obvious. Or, at least, that her mother wouldn't make fun. Realistic, Rory sneered at herself. Very realistic.

"I am surprised, though," Lorelai continued. "I sort of figured you and Jess would be..." and there was some sound Rory could only assume was hand kissing, although she wasn't going to look up to check, "_all the time_."

"He asked me to stay," Rory said into her hands, muffling it.

"What?"

Rory dropped her hands, pursing her lips as she looked at her mother. Emotion caught in her throat – she tried to ignore it, evening out her tone as she repeated, "He asked me to stay."

"For coffee?" Lorelai asked. "Or, like stay forever in 'The Shining'?"

"For the night," Rory said. She suddenly felt nervous, and sought her mother's eyes for reassurance. All the amusement had left them, replaced by seriousness and no small amount of worry. Rory bit her lip. "This is big, isn't it?"

Lorelai exhaled slowly.

"It is big."

"And good? It's good?"

"It's," Lorelai shrugged helplessly. "It's something."

"Yeah," Rory said. She wished she knew what that meant. She traced her finger along the edge of her coffee mug, brow furrowing with concentration. There was a big knot of undefinable feeling in her stomach. "It's something."

Rory heard wood squeak against wood as Lorelai pushed back from the table. She stepped over to Rory's chair, leaning down to hug her lightly from behind. She relaxed slightly, so happy to have her mother here, supporting her. She didn't know what she'd do without her – or, she admitted with a small smile, without the teasing.

"And if you want help," Lorelai said mischievously into her hair. "I can always show you how the massage setting works for the shower."

"Mom!" Rory jerked from her grasp, turning to glare furiously at Lorelai, but she was already dancing away.

***

Lazy Sunday. Less lazy for Rory than for Lorelai, who rushed off not long after breakfast for something drama filled and Jess related, Lorelai was sure. She'd hear about it eventually, and she was in the midst of a campaign to unclench about the Jess issue, so after a few deep breathing exercises, she let it go and set about finding herself a distraction.

It'd be a long time since she reorganized her obscure movie reference rolodex anyway.

She was just trying to decide how to file "My Own Private Idaho" when there was a knock at the door. Scrambling up from where she was sitting on the floor, Lorelai gave her body a good twist and stretch – ignoring the noticeable creaks of age – and slid on her socks over to the door. She peeked out through the mottled glass, and grinned.

"Hi, Luke," she said, flinging the door open. She waved her file card at him. "What's most important to you in a movie – singing, gay characters, or River Phoenix?"

Luke stared at her, leaning away slightly.

"I'm fairly sure they're all important," he said. "They're all bright, flashing signs that say 'Luke Danes will not watch this.'"

"Duly noted. So, what brings you to this neck of the woods. Is it nookie?"

"What?" Luke croaked.

Lorelai considered that her phrasing may have been misleading.

"Jess and Rory nookie," she corrected. "Not, uh, hey! So how are you and Nicole doing?"

"Fine. And, yeah, but more the Jess problem than the Rory problem. Or the Jess and Rory problem. Can I sit down?"

Nodding, Lorelai awkwardly led him over to the couch, picking up the scattered movie cards to make a thick stack. She sat on the ottoman across from him, fingers shuffling the cards as she examined Luke. He didn't exactly look his best. Okay, stubble and a ball cap were his trademark, scowling his raison d'etre, but something seemed off with him.

"Hey," Lorelai said. She leaned forward to touch him lightly on the knee. "Are you holding up okay?"

Luke gave a half shrug, looking away. She could almost see the tension coiling within him, until he finally looked back, bursting out with, "I kicked Jess out!"

"_What_?"

"I kicked him out! There was the fight with Dean and he wrecked Kyle's house, and then the thing with _Rory_, and did you know he's not even going to school anymore? He flunked. He flunked out and now he's not going to graduate! And I did a great job with him, clearly. Might as well have just left him in New York, or tossed him in the lake and left him, because I would have gotten the exact same result."

"Well," Lorelai said, blinking at him slowly through her shock. "I don't think Rory would have been as keen to sleep with him underwater."

Luke threw up his hands.

"Could you take this seriously for one second?"

"I'm trying!" Lorelai exclaimed, brain finally catching up with her mouth. She frowned."Uh, Luke, can we go back before the really disturbing underwater sex that I really don't want to think about, to the part where _you kicked Jess out_?"

"We had a deal," Luke said staunchly. "Jess goes to school. Jess graduates. He did bupkis on his end, so I'm done."

"But, Luke, he's a kid! He's got to have some place to live!"

"Then he'll get a motel. He's got the cash, doesn't he? All he does is work."

"Luke," she sighed, voice trailing off. She stared at him, watching him cross and uncross his arms. He clenched his jaw, a stubborn look on his face. She shook her head. "You're really not good at this, you know?"

"What? At parenting?" He glared at her. "I don't think you are in _any_ position to judge! You don't know what I was dealing with!"

Lorelai cleared her throat, giving him a quelling look.

"First, hi, I knew before you did, and second, that's not what I meant, but now that you mention it, no, you're not in the running for father of the year right now. You _don't_ kick a kid out. And you don't come to _me_ for sympathy over it," she said, willing him to remember that she'd once been a runaway. "But no, actually. I meant that you aren't very good at keeping Jess and Rory apart."

It was almost comical how wide Luke's eyes went. He stumbled to stand.

"They're together right now!"

"Yep. They're together right now. In a hotel room. Completely unmonitored," Lorelai pronounced. "So, you know. Thanks for that. I'm sure they appreciate the privacy."

"I can't believe you! You're alright with this? With them having," his voice dropped near a whisper, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks, "_sex_?"

"No, as a matter of fact," Lorelai said. "Not a fan of any of this: the how, the when, the why, the _who_! But it happened, Luke! It happened and these are our kids. It's our job to keep them safe and support them and make sure they know they're loved."

Luke flinched at the last word.

"And yeah," Lorelai asserted, straightening her shoulders as she leveled a look at him. "If it came down to it, I would much rather have Jess and Rory together in my house than out there in some flea bitten, skanky rent by the hour motel. I never wanted her to have to sneak around or lie to me."

"So what do you want me to do?" Luke finally grumbled.

"Go out there! Find your kid and try to make this right!"

"I don't even know where to look."

"Yeah, well. It's a small town. Can't be too many skanky motels," Lorelai said, tone softening a tad.

"No, Taylor wouldn't allow that."

Luke snuck a look at her. She smiled slightly, giving a nod to his joke. Luke huffed out a long breath, shaking himself as he stood. He thumbed awkwardly over his shoulder, telling her, "So... I'm going to go. And find Jess."

"You're welcome!" she called after him.

***

Stars Hollow had three motels, none of them skanky. In fact, there was only one that Luke would even term "low rent", and that was more in a metaphorical sense than literal. He supposed it was to be expected in a town that had a porcelain unicorn and novelty plate based economy, but rooms were not cheap in Stars Hollow by any measure. Each meticulously clean reception desk gave no joy; the clerks politely and pointedly explained again and again that they didn't give out customer information, and no, they didn't need to see the reference photo.

By noon, Luke was in a mood, photo crumpled and torn, and so mixed up he even considered turning his hat around to fend off the high glare of the sun. Anger and guilt clenched in his stomach. How in the hell was Jess going to pay for a room? Oh, but I know, Luke growled to himself. Money was the whole problem.

The quieter, less acknowledged voice in his head asked how in the world Luke was going to make this right when he couldn't even figure out where Jess was staying. _If_ he was staying.

"It's a small town," Luke said aloud to himself. And he'd know if Jess had run. He would. Lorelai would have said something.

The thought of relying on her for up to the minute news on his own nephew left a sour, bitter taste in Luke's mouth. He stomped his way back to the diner, tired of running around town and of all the thoughts running around his brain. Maybe he'd make a detour to Taylor's soda shop. He wanted someone to yell at.

In the end, though, he found even the curling script of the extra "p" and "e" on Taylor's sign too infuriating for him to even move, let alone speak. He remained frozen in place for several moments, seething as he stared at the sign. The interior was dark, Taylor's loudly pinstriped form from the day before nowhere to be found. Forcing himself past and into the diner, Luke shouted strangled directions to Ceasar to just keeping doing what he was doing, and let himself into his apartment.

Turning around from locking the door, Luke startled at the sight of Rory across the room from him, sitting gingerly on Jess's bed.

"Hi, Luke," she said, giving a small, awkward wave. Her normal friendly demeanor was stiff. It almost looked like she was upset.

Luke raised his hand and immediately dropped it, feeling foolish for waving back in his own house.

"Uh. Hey, Rory." Luke frowned, looking behind him at the door and back to Rory. He shot a questioning glance over toward the window. "So, uh, how'd you get in?"

Rory held out her palm coolly: the distinct, bent copper form of Jess's key lay across it. Luke reached up to scratch his neck, looking away from her.

"Right. You kids and your keys."

"Crazy."

"Maybe it'll start a trend."

"Maybe! And then we'll be the sensation of the nation. A chicken in every pot and a key on every belt, that's what I say," Rory babbled. It sounded very like she was trying to avoid whatever had brought here there. Whatever _bad_ had brought her there, because it wasn't like Luke had any reason to be optimistic.

Luke risked a look back at her. Her fingers toyed with the light sheets of Jess's bed, pinching and twisting them, and her hair was slightly mussed. It looked like she might have fallen asleep briefly on Jess's bed.

For a wild moment, Luke gaped. Had they...? _Here_? Luke charged over to the closet, swearing to himself he wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. He flung it open, finding only his own muted wardrobe inside. Embarrassed and annoyed, he tried not to move, even when he felt Rory's eyes fall on him.

He turned on one heel, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring intimidatingly at Rory, daring her to laugh. She looked at him like he was insane. Luke rocked back on his heels, rubbing his hands as he tried to pretend she hadn't just seen that.

"So," he said, "were you looking for something, Rory?"

"Oh, um, yeah! I just wanted..." Rory trailed off, looking around for something plausible, clearly fighting with herself about what to say. It looked like the willful side was losing, she was backing down and making excuses instead of facing the real reason she was there. She leapt up from the bed to snatch a notebook from Jess's desk. Compulsively, she piled on two more books, seemingly at random. "To get a book! For Jess!"

"Oh," Luke said, feeling oddly disappointed. "Was that all?"

"No!" Rory said. She blinked, looking surprised at her own vehemence, but then she deliberately threw back her shoulders, striding over to glare up at him. "That isn't all! I came over here to tell you how much you hurt Jess, and hurt me, and what a _jerk_ you are!"

"Rory..." Luke floundered, stepping back from her and those wet blue eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to think of how to explain.

"No, Luke! You can't just 'Rory' me and make me shut up! You can't kick Jess out! Not because of me! It's awful and I don't want it. I'm a big girl and I don't need you playing Dad to me. Despite what you and the rest of the town may think, Jess didn't hurt me," she laughed a little. It sounded a tad hysterical to Luke's ears. "He most definitely did not 'violate' me."

Luke stared at her, watching her tiny form heave out breathes, face still red with anger. She did not, he could admit, look violated.

"You done?" he asked.

Rory nodded sharply.

"I'm done."

"Then I got one thing to tell you, Rory," he said, "I didn't kick him out because of you."

"What?"

Luke shook his head, smiling angrily to himself. Of course. Of course, Jess lied to her. It figured. Luke had been feeling special, being the only one lied to, but hey, Jess had found a way to make it all better. He could just lie to _everyone_, including his girlfriend.

"He didn't tell you?" Luke asked rhetorically. "I didn't kick Jess out. He got _himself_ kicked out. He flunked out of school, Rory."

Rory clutched the books she held close to her chest, shaking her head in denial for a long moment. The movement slowed as Luke could see each piece fall into place, all the little signs Luke had missed and only realized yesterday, making a complete picture of all the lies Jess had told.

"Jess isn't graduating," Rory whispered to herself. She looked up, blinking tears from her eyes as she blurted, "I have to go!"

Luke watched her run awkwardly from the apartment, books still held fast. He sat heavily on his couch and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"Damn it!" he shouted, pounding his fist against his knee. So much for making things better with Jess.

***

Rory blinked into the noon light as she stepped from the diner and stopped right in front of the swinging door, staring across the street to the town square. There was some hullabaloo going on, a large gathering of people all impeccably dressed in black and dark color milling about the street. Rory frowned, eyes tracking what looked like a procession from the church and snagging on the end point, where several men carried a casket.

Gasping, Rory rushed forward to the nearest person.

"Missy Patty! What happened?"

Miss Patty turned, cocking a lined eyebrow at Rory, painted red mouth twisting in concern.

"Rory, honey, you don't know? Fran died a coupla days ago. I'm shocked you and your mom didn't make it out to the memorial this morning. Lovely service, _very_ attractive pallbearers."

"Fran died," Rory repeated, stunned. Why hadn't she heard?

"Yep. Tragic, she was such a sweet old lady. And she made the best pies!" Miss Patty said. Her eyes raked over Rory. "Oh, hon, don't beat yourself up about it. Heard about you and your James Dean. Way to go, by the way. I've been rootin' for you two.

"I'm sure _anyone_ would be distracted, in your place."

She ended on an exaggerated wink and chortle that made Rory flinch. She glowered at Miss Patty's turned back, nursing her wounded pride. She wasn't _distracted_. And even if she was, it wasn't just about her boyfriend. She still had a lot of school – finals, and the APs, and she hadn't even _started_ writing her speech for graduation, which people totally underestimated the stress of.

There was a movement from near the church that distracted Rory from her thoughts. She stood up straighter, straining to see, and was able to pick out Dean's tall form as he waved to her. He was smiling broadly, despite the mournful attire he wore.

Abruptly, Rory turned to walk away, steps building speed until she was running flat out.

She was wheezing by the time she got back home. She leant bodily against the door, Jess's books clutched in the arm holding a stitch in her side, while the other snaked up the length of the door, rapping out a weak rhythm. The door gave under her, and Rory stumbled into her mother's surprised arms.

"Jazzercise," she gasped out. "Next time...you Jazzercise...ask me...okay?"

Lorelai moved to prop Rory inside the entry way, eyes scanning up and down her body as Rory tried to regain her breath.

"Honey, not that I don't agree with the sentiment, but what happened? You and Jess have a fight?"

"No!" Rory glared at her mother. "Not _everything_ is about him! I have a life you know!"

"Okay, okay!" Lorelai said. "Just thought you looked upset."

"And Jess makes me upset, right?"

"Well, yes." Rory struggled to get past her mom, pushing away from the wall. She walked into the living room, flopping down on the couch to sulk. Bemused, Lorelai called after her, "I mean no?"

Rory refused to answer. She could hear the distinct sigh Lorelai gave before shuffling over. She perched on the opposite end of the couch, scattering rolodex cards to the floor carelessly as she drew her feet up.

Waving a hand up and down to encompass Rory's entire body, she asked, "So what's this about? You look like you ran here from across town."

"From Luke's," Rory corrected.

Lorelai's eyebrows climbed

"Ah. Yeah, I agree about the Jazzercise. That's really really close, sweetie. Your current cardio workout – and here I _don't_ mean Jess – clearly isn't doing it."

Rory scowled.

"Thanks."

"Rory," Lorelai sighed. "Come on, I'm trying here."

"I know and I just..." Rory huffed out a breath, voice becoming small as she looked down. She mumbled, "Do you ever think I'm self-centered?"

"What? Who said that?"

"No one. No one had to." Rory looked back up, meeting her mother's eyes. "Did you know that Fran died?"

Lorelai nearly fell off the couch.

"She – What? When? Oh God, that's so awful!"

Rory rolled her eyes at her mother's tone. It moved rapidly from genuine surprise and remorse, to distracted rumination. Fran was lease holder of the Dragonfly Inn property which Lorelai and Sookie wanted to buy, and it was easy to see what her death represented as far as their future business aspirations.

"Okay, hon, hold that thought," Lorelai said as she picked herself up. She sidled over to the phone, throwing back over her shoulder, "I just need to make one little phone call to Sookie!"

"You bet," Rory said to the air.

Lethargically, she peeled herself from the couch, peeking around the corner once into the kitchen to see her mother plotting rapidly and at high pitch with Sookie. Tottering back onto her other foot, she wheeled about, going to pick up the book and notebook she'd dropped. When she made a second pass through the kitchen, Lorelai was still talking, ever more animated with a pen in hand as she drew up plans. Rory closed the door to her bedroom with a loud thump, tossing the books onto her bed and collapsing onto it bonelessly.

Without looking, she groped for the first, staring up at the ceiling. Rather than raise her head, she just held the book aloft, peering at the cover. "Sputnik Sweetheart." A new, unblemished copy. Boring. She dropped it, pulling the other book closer. It was a well-thumbed, bent, spindled and mutilated copy of "Grendel."

Excellent. She could use some existentialism right now. It would do a lot to fend off the gnawing guilt in her stomach over her own self-absorbed life style. Her anger at Jess's lies.

Hours later, her attention wandered. There was only so much stream of consciousness she could handle at one time. Dog earing her page with an illicit kind of satisfaction – she would never do that to one of _her_ books – Rory set it down. Her fingers strayed down her comforter, eventually finding Jess's notebook. Rory's mouth pressed into a thin line as she glared up at the ceiling.

"Let's look at all the notes you didn't write," she said, seizing it firmly and pulling it toward her.

As she expected, the first few pages were filled with line drawings, insolent comments about his teachers, and only sparse notes on academic matters. She flipped through the pages of the thick, all-subject notebook, annoyance growing as she did. There were many, many blank pages.

But then Jess's precise, meticulous writing again began to fill the pages. Rory rolled over onto her stomach, spreading the notebook out in front of her as she began to read.

Engrossed, daylight waning, it was only when her bed dipped with another person's weight that she looked up.

"Hey, Ror," Jess said, smiling faintly. "Studying?"

His hand reached out, tracing the line of her back lightly. Rory's breath caught in her throat, eyelids fluttering. No, she told herself. She was still mad at him. Turning over onto her back, she leaned up on her elbows, pinning him with a look. He returned it curiously.

"I didn't break in, if you're wondering," Jess said, brow furrowing. "I used the key. In the turtle. Hey, where's your mom?"

"I wasn't wondering," Rory returned coolly. She had no idea where Lorelai was, and she knew Jess didn't actually care beyond "not here for several hours", so she ignored that question.

"Then what, Ror?"

Rory nodded her head down the bed, directing Jess's attention to the books. For some reason, he took his time, eyes skimming slowly down her body. Even when he finally noticed the book, it was with a hand firmly on her thigh, thumb lightly tracing the inseam of her jeans.

"Books. Huh."

"_Your_ books, Jess. I went to see Luke."

His hand on her body stilled. Jess kept his face averted, but Rory could see muscles work in the sharp profile of his jaw. His gaze was hard when he returned it to her face, tone a stab at nonchalance.

"And why would you do that?"

For a moment, Rory wanted to leap up, to shout at him, to push him against a wall and put her hammering heart to good use. Instead, she stayed where she was, mind scrambling for any sentence that wasn't _because I love you_.

Exhaling a resolute breath, Rory didn't move an inch.

"He told me," she said, "that you aren't graduating. You lied to me, Jess! You made it sound like Luke was the bad guy, here! Like he kicked you out because of us!"

"Hey, he _is_ the bad guy!" Jess snapped, eyes fierce. "He turned me out on the street! And I'm pretty sure he stole my car while he was at it."

"To help you!"

"Please," Jess scoffed.

What was she even doing? Rory shook her head, eyes suddenly filled with angry tears, and she struggled to sit. Jess leaned away from her on the bed. Neither rose, air between them snapping with anger. Fumbling behind her, Rory grabbed his notebook and thrust it at him. A shocked look of recognition passed over his face, transforming quickly to outrage.

"You read my stories?"

"You never," Rory started, ignoring his words, "understand how much we care about you. You never even get _why_."

"I didn't say you could read those!"

Rory laughed a little. How obtuse was he?

"Those stories are why! Jess, you have an amazing mind. You are so talented and so smart, and you are _wasting_ your life. And you don't get it! You don't get what that does to Luke, or to me!"

"Yeah, sorry," he snarled, "I really should have been thinking about what it meant for _you_ when I failed out of school. How will it look, dating a high school drop out when you're going to Yale? It's such a _scandal_."

"It's not about that, and you know it!"

"Right," Jess said, laughing bitterly. He made to stand, looking away from her again. "Whatever, I'm out of here."

"No!"

Rory grabbed his hand, but he shook her off. He leveled a dark look down at her, striding over to the door. Furious, Rory leapt up to follow him, sliding in her socks on the wood floor. She seized him by the arm, pulling on his long sleeve until he turned to face her.

"Rory," he started warningly, only to be cut off by the harsh kiss she pulled him down into. Surprised, he stumbled back a pace before his hands came up, lightly grazing her arms. Pushing her away. Rory held tighter, anger still thrumming through her. She bit at his lips, warning him not to run away.

Eventually, she did let him pull back, just long enough to look at her in confusion, gasping out, "Rory, what...?"

Shuddering with each heaving breath, Rory shook her head, reaching again quickly for him. He gave in to her demand easily, kissing her with force that backed her up into her vanity. She hitched a hip up on it, and then felt Jess's hands dip down to cup her behind, boosting her up. She slid back onto the wood with a groan, scattering knickknacks and tchotchkes to the floor.

Jess moved to stand between her legs, and Rory threw her head back, letting him kiss and bite lightly at her neck. She raised her hands to his head, raking them through his gel stiffened hair, hearing only the throbbing beat of blood through her head. She had no _idea_ what she was doing.

"Do you have...?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," Jess mumbled into her skin. He licked again at the hinge of her jaw and she shuddered. "Back pocket."

Rory slid her hands down his back, taking her time when she reached the curve of his ass. She smiled, proud of herself for even thinking in those terms, as she cupped one hand against him, pulling him even closer to her body. It was a sweetly illicit thrill, mimicking that position she'd seen him and Shane in so long ago. With her other hand, she groped – and restrained a giddy laugh at the literal use of the word – for his wallet.

Jess made a disappointed sound as she removed her hands from him, muffled a bit by the skin he'd bared near he bra strap. His teeth dug softly into her collarbone, making her breath hitch and eyes close. She fumbled with his wallet, almost dropping it, before she managed to extract the condom tucked between a large number of crisp bills.

"Faster is better," Jess said, lifting his head to glare at her.

Rory jerked her chin up, narrowing her eyes at him. She tried to control her breathing, tried to sound anything other than hopelessly aroused when she said, "That's not what...you said...last time."

They did eventually make it to the bed, to rest and recover. Very mindful of her sheets, Rory wouldn't allow for more, even if they did have another condom. Jess grinned into her shoulder, his body a pleasant weight pressing her down into the bed as he explored her body at leisure.

"Guess you should buy some," he murmured.

Rory flushed at the thought. She tried to imagine herself at a store. At Doose's. Her eyes went wide with horror. She bit her lip, still staring at nothing as she replied weakly, "I'll, uh, get on that."

Or this whole "sex in her room" thing might just be a one time deal. That, she thought, would be easier. Less preparation involved and, oh God, less possibility of her _mother_ walking in on them. How had she not even considered that?

He kissed above her breast, fingers tracing under the sheets to outline her hipbone, before shifting slightly against her. Jess put his head onto her shoulder, voice a warm whisper in her ear, "I like this, our new kind of argument."

"Yeah," she breathed. Her stomach fluttered, eyes twitching toward the door as she was suddenly wracked by nerves. No, really, she asked herself. What were you _thinking_?

Jess dozed against her back. She tried to relax into his warmth, the enjoyable press of naked skin against her, but every time she did, her eyes would snap open, breath coming shallowly as she watched her door in anxiety, straining her eyes for the sound of her mother's return. Gingerly, she removed his hands from her body, slipping from her bed.

Naked.

Nervously, she darted over to her closet, extracting her robe. She belted up and then tightened it until she could feel the wool belt cutting in. Bare feet slapping loudly enough on the wooden floor to make her wince, Rory eased open her door and peeked into the kitchen. Nothing. She scurried self-consciously to the phone, snapping it up quickly with one hand; her other hand worked redundantly to hold the top of her robe shut.

She glanced back to her room. She could make out a sliver of Jess's form through her open door, see his ruffled hair and the line of his back. She stared for a long moment, breathing deeply as she watched him sleep. Shaking herself, she tiptoed forward and quietly shut the door before collapsing at the kitchen table. She pressed her forehead to the wood, banging her head lightly. What was she doing? And God, who could she even call to talk about this?

With a suddenness that made Rory drop the handset, the phone in her hand rang. She startled, staring at it as it reverberated against the table before cautiously reaching out to answer it.

"Gilmore? It's Paris."

"Yes! Paris! Hi!" Rory said with unexpected enthusiasm.

There was silence on the other end of the line before Paris spoke again, admonishing, "Don't sound so happy to hear me. It freaks me out."

"Don't be freaked! It's just," Rory let out the relieved laugh bubbling up within her, "you're just who I needed to talk to. I was about to call you!"

Rory realized it was true the instant she said it, a goofy grin spreading across her face. Paris had been through this. Sure, she'd had a mental breakdown on national TV and then spent weeks bedridden while watching soap operas, but she'd come through the other side. She could totally give Rory advice!

"Right," Paris said stridently. Rory could almost see her intent expression as she decided to plow past any mushy feelings Rory's elation might evoke. "So, I need you to stand with me on this Grad Night issue."

"Grad Night? With the boat and the catering and everyone happy? I thought that was all settled."

"Yes! A settled _disaster_, Gilmore. Do you really want to be out to sea for hours, trapped with everyone you loathed for three long years, watching couples drunkenly grope while Mr. Medina is sick over the side _again_ and some mouthbreather from Algebra for idiots tries to feel you up? No! Of course not! We have to issue a statement and take a hard line against the planning committee!"

"Paris," Rory said, elongating the sibilant ending with a smiling sigh that her friend could not see. "Grad Night is only a couple of weeks away. They've already booked everything. I think we're doomed to our be-yachted fate."

There was faint grumbling on the line. In the interests of preventing Paris from hanging up, Rory offered, "But if you want, I can help you draw up an official motion of protest from the student government leadership."

"Okay. Good," Paris replied forcefully. "So what was it you were calling me about?"

Instantaneously, Rory blushed deeply.

"Oh. Um. I just... wanted to talk."

"About what? School? Politics? Condi Rice's bucked teeth?"

"Boys," Rory mumbled.

"Boys," Paris repeated dumbly. "You wanted to talk to me... about boys?"

"You're right, it's stupid and I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't ever want to—"

"You're kidding, right? It's wonderful! I mean, who ever would have thought that anyone – let alone Rory 'Snow White' Gilmore – would be asking me for advice about boys? This is amazing! It's momentous! Are you writing this down?" There was another long pause and Paris took a breath, and when her voice returned, suspicion had settled into it. "Is this a trick?"

"No! It's not a trick, Paris. I need your advice."

"Good. Right. I'm ready. Hit me."

"When you and Jamie started having," again, Rory blushed, voice going softer, "sex did you...?"

"Orgasm? Yes," Paris asserted. "I mean not the very first time. I love Jamie but I think he needs a guide book for everything. They don't make Rand McNally for women, unfortunately."

"No!" Rory shouted. Oh God, the over-sharing. She had to stop it. "No, no, that's not what I was asking."

"Oh."

"Did you feel out of control all the time?"

"Rory. I spent four weeks watching the travails of Martin and Adriana on 'General Hospital.' What the hell do you think?"

"Right, okay, stupid question." Rory took a deep breath, eyes on her fingers as they traced the grain of the wood in the table. One of the knots almost looked like benzene. "But, I just, I don't –"

"Wait, did you have sex?" Paris said, cutting her off. "You and Kerouac? Was it bad?"

Offended, Rory looked up to frown at the coffee maker. It didn't respond.

"Bad, why would you think it was bad? Paris, the normal friend question here is to if it was _good_!"

"You still think of me as your friend?" Paris asked softly, and Rory could almost see her smile. They'd been through a lot this year, and maybe Rory wasn't the only one needing a little bit of affirmation. Quickly, though, it vanished from her mind as Paris plunged into her reasoning, "And you asked me for advice, ready to divulge highly personal details about embarrassing subject matters. Combined with your tone of voice and the elation with which you greeted me, an unprecedented occurrence, the rational conclusion is that there is a problem. So spill it, Gilmore."

"Sex is making me a terrible person," Rory blurted.

"Huh. Okay. Interesting. A little Freudian, which is honestly outmoded and critically derided these days, but alright, I'll run with it. How is sex making you a terrible person?"

"Fran died and I didn't know and I missed her funeral all because I'm too busy making whoopie with Jess. And, oh yeah, what about Jess? We get into this argument and it should be a huge deal, but suddenly I'm kissing him and why argue when we can just have _sex_, 'cause that fixes everything right? I'm sure that'll pay his rent, or better yet, convince Luke not to kick him out!"

Rory gestured wildly as she vented, hand dropping her robe, only to realize that left her exposed, robe gaping open to all the world. Or to her empty kitchen. Looking around furtively, Rory snatched the fabric back into her hand, closing it hurriedly.

"Who's Luke again?"

"Jess's uncle."

"And Fran?"

"A sweet old lady who owns a bakery."

"Who isn't related to you?" Rory opened her mouth, but Paris didn't wait for a response. "Get a grip, Rory. You didn't go to the geezer's funeral. So what? I don't think her family is crying over some random girl who likes cake not going to their granny's funeral.

"As for Kerouac's uncle, you got me. How'd he get kicked out?"

"He failed out of school," Rory said softly, hoping her voice didn't carry back to her bed. This was not how she would choose to wake Jess.

"He _what_? How could – _Why_ – But he's smart!" Paris sputtered. She sounded near hyperventilating. It must be incomprehensible to her, Rory mused, someone smart who doesn't like school.

"Didn't go," Rory said with a shrug, as if it was just that easy to brush off. Jess did it; why not her? "He was always working."

"Well," Paris said stiffly. It was clear she was still processing the horror of someone she knew not graduating. "That seems counter productive to me. Now he has to work more, to pay rent."

"Yep," Rory agreed, slumping back in her chair. She splayed her feet out in front of her. The spring air filtering into the house was just warm enough to keep her bare feet warm. She wiggled them, starting to finally feel a little more comfortable. Paris didn't have the answers for her. No one did.

But at least she had a friend to talk to who had been where she was right now.

"So," Paris said eventually. It sounded very like Rory's comment earlier about the right kind of friend question had just now clicked in her brain."Was it good?"

Rory smiled to herself, tilting her head and stretching her back as she settle in to talk.


End file.
